


Darling Are You Gonna Leave Me

by morrowkei



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn, and when i say slow burn i mean slowwwwwwww, buckle in boys, loosely based on canon..., loosely being the key word here, rated as mature for now but will get Saucy later on, so i will probably change to explicit, this is gonna be a Long Ass Fanfic, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:57:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrowkei/pseuds/morrowkei
Summary: Hanzo joins Blackwatch, the black ops division of the famous organisation Overwatch, as he seeks to leave his past behind and start over at the beginning. He is thrown unwillingly into a partnership with young cowboy-wannabe Jesse McCree, the protegee of none other than Gabriel Reyes himself. They must learn to work together and trust eachother as they struggle with their demons, and the machinations of an evil seeping into the cracks in the foundations of Overwatch.





	1. Start over, at the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> if you want saucy overwatch art and other regular updates, follow me over at my tumblr, dovahbutt
> 
> the title is a song by London Grammar, it will make more sense as the fic progresses, i promise!
> 
> if you spot any errors, please let me know. i also live for comments. this is my first time posting any of my fic up, so please go easy on me uvu

_ A turning point. A new beginning. A chance at something… Something like redemption. _

Hanzo walked towards the figure lifting crates in an otherwise deserted and eerily empty loading bay. The harsh sounds of crates being scraped across each other and slammed down, metal screeching against metal, echoed in the expanse, amplified by the vaulted ceiling. 

_ Start over, at the beginning. _

Footsteps light, drowned out by the din, his approach could not be heard, but, regardless, he didn’t get far before the figure froze and turned, stared him over, then gestured lazily.    
Hanzo approached cautiously, eyeing up the twin sawn-off shotguns that had been lain down on the crate closest to the figure, next to a half drunk cup of coffee and… a pack of Reese’s peanut butter cups?  
“Hanzo Shimada, correct?”  
The man in front of him raised a grizzled eyebrow in appraisal. He was tall, heavyset, broad shoulders, dark skin. A thunderous expression complimented the scars etched into his cheek and bottom lip.  
Gabriel Reyes had a fearsome reputation, and Hanzo narrowed his eyes, calculating.    
“You are correct.”   
“Formerly of the Shimada clan, you murdered your brother and then turned to working as an assassin-for-hire. Between your frankly impressive hit-list and your family heritage, you have made quite a name for yourself,” Reyes picked up the coffee cup, “don’t expect that to gain you any favours.” He took a gulp, dark eyes never leaving Hanzo’s. They were surrounded by deep bags.    
A troubled sleeper.  
“I did not expect it to.” Hanzo had subdued a flinch at the blatant mention of his kin. He was not surprised that Reyes knew. It hadn’t exactly been kept a secret.    
“Good,” Reyes’ expression was inscrutable as he returned to shifting the crates, consulting a clipboard stuffed with paper. “You have been assigned room…” He flipped a page, “63. And your roommate is one of my own. Jesse McCree.”   
Roommate. Had he heard that correctly? Surely not.   
“Roommate?”    
“... Yes, Shimada, your roommate.”  
“Is that… Necessary?” He realised he had made a faux pas when Reyes frowned darkly, pausing while holding one of the crates, shoulders straining. It had been a long time since Hanzo had felt threatened by another person, but the way Reyes held himself, like he was restraining a violent storm, cowed him and he lowered his gaze respectfully.    
Reyes took that as a submission and smiled slightly in personal amusement before continuing.   
“You will eat with them, sleep with them and train with them. You are no longer a solo unit. You might hate their guts, and you might never come to like working with them, but you will learn to trust them and work as an effective team. Understood… Recruit?”   
Hanzo nodded an unwilling affirmative. He already felt a faint tinge of regret worm its way into his resolve.    
“Good. Follow me.”

The corridors Hanzo walked were empty and silent apart from the faint whirr of the air recyclers and the gurgle of water pipes in the walls. Gabriel accompanied him, a couple of steps ahead, gaze fixed forward, not looking back to see whether Hanzo was still following.  
When they arrived at what he assumed were the living quarters the unnatural quiet broke, and the sounds of voices, occasionally heated and angry, could be heard on the still air. The door to room 63 was propped open with a box and Hanzo caught a strong whiff of tobacco that caused his nose to wrinkle.    
Reyes’ voice was disapproving as he stood in the entrance, hands on his hips.   
“Open a window asshole.”   
“Ah sorry Gabe-”   
“Don’t call me that.” Gabriel’s tone was sour, but, interestingly, Hanzo noticed a distinct lack of venom in it. He stepped up to join Reyes at the door, and stared at the man who was going to define his foreseeable future.   
A real life cowboy? Hanzo’s surprise flitted over his face before he regained his usual control.   
The man was sturdy, shoulders and chest straining the fabric and buttons of his faded plaid shirt. He rolled his shoulders, stretching as he stood up from the bed where he was sprawled, and his shirt rode up to reveal a glint of gold at his belt, reflecting the fading light from the window. Hanzo frowned in disgust as he read the embossed letters. BAMF.    
_ How distasteful. _   
If Hanzo were to sum up McCree's appearance in two words it would be incredibly scruffy; his shaggy, obviously uncombed hair peeked out from underneath a worn brown leather Stetson, and untrimmed sideburns, moustache and beard framed his strong nose and bushy brows. The stub of a cigar was clamped between his teeth, which were bared in what could only be described as a shit eating grin as the cowboy noticed Hanzo.  
"Howdy partner," he drawled, emphasising his (somewhat impressive, Hanzo had to admit) southern accent.  
Hanzo took a deep breath, mentally as well as physically, bracing himself. He could already tell this man was going to be insufferable.  
“Shimada Hanzo, at your service,” Hanzo was nothing if not courteous despite his misgivings, offering a short bow. First impressions were important to him, regardless of whether they were to his new roommate.    
McCree turned to Gabriel, one eyebrow cocked mischievously and his grin spreading even wider, “you’ve partnered me with a ninja?”  
Hanzo drew in an affronted breath.“You dishonour me!” he snapped.    
To his surprise, however, McCree instantly raised his hands in an apologetic gesture, “I meant no offense, Mr Shimada. Pardon me.”  
Reyes snorted in amusement as Hanzo deflated slightly and offered a begrudging “apology accepted.” He had been watching them both from the doorway, and now made to leave.    
“I am needed elsewhere,” he said, “I will leave you two to get properly acquainted. Please refrain from getting at each other’s throats so soon. I  _ hate _ cleaning up after scraps.” He turned on one heel and left without further explanation.

Hanzo glanced at McCree. He must have looked questioning, because McCree rubbed the nape of his neck with a hand that Hanzo now realised was not flesh and blood, but bare metal, and offered up an explanation.   
“Ah yeah, Blackwatch is an amalgam of the good, the bad and the ugly. Most everyone here is upight an’ violent, so there are always scuffles. Don’t worry about Gabe though, he acts tough but hones’ly he’s a big softie.” McCree stopped itching, and offered his human hand to Hanzo, “I am sorry we got off on the wrong foot darlin’. Call me Jesse if ya want.”   
“Excuse me?” Hanzo spluttered, cheeks pink.   
“I meant nothin’ by it, darlin’,” Jesse said, grinning again, “don’ leave me hangin’.”   
Hanzo took McCree’s hand and shook after a second of hesitation. He could not help but feel he was being teased, and was not enjoying it. He sighed.

_ Nothing ventured, nothing gained. _

His new roommate sure was a looker. Jesse admired Shimada while the other received his luggage from a security guard. All belongings were checked thoroughly and scanned when entering the Blackwatch base by security personnel, and then brought up to their rooms if deemed safe.    
Hanzo was short and stocky, but impressively muscled, one broad shoulder and half his chest bared to the world in obvious pride. The tattoo that wrapped around Hanzo's shoulder, disappearing inside his sleeve, was quite something - storm clouds, lightning, and what was definitely a dragon, head on his wrist, body coiled around his arm and plumed tail on his chest, picked out in pale blue and gold.    
McCree made no moves to hide his curiosity.  
Hanzo cleared his throat pointedly, "you're staring."  
McCree winked lazily, reclining on his bed. He'd already unpacked his meager amount of belongings - clothes, armour, small boxes of ammo and his beloved Peacekeeper - and unabashedly let his gaze wander downwards. "I can't help it when there's such a nice view, sweetheart."  
He was rewarded with the sound of Hanzo spluttering again in disbelief, and he noticed in his peripheral vision the slight red flush that spread over his roommate's cheeks.  
"You are _ incredibly _ rude."   
"I’m only bein’ honest." McCree looked over Hanzo's legs with interest. On one hand, he could be wearing some kind of enhancing armour, but on the other, there was no way someone could have ankles that slim naturally.    
_ Sparrow legs. _   
There was no shortage of people with assorted prosthetics in Blackwatch, McCree included, but the loss of both legs must be a hard burden to bear. He refrained from prying - he may appear loud and brash and unembarrassed, but he knew when to be tactful. Even he would be awkward talking about his own prosthetic with a complete stranger, and the one solid impression he'd gained from Hanzo was that he was guarded. By thick fucking iron walls.

"We have training tomorrow at eight am sharp," McCree informed him, eyes following him around, "as you're new I doubt you'll be on the computer system yet, so I'll keep a close eye on it for the both of us. Breakfast is normally served from five onwards, if you're an early bird. Uh, apart from that... Training in the simulation rooms is every morning with two mornings off a week. But of course you’re expected to hit the shootin’ range and gym in your own time. We won't be running missions for a while, Gabe will want to assess how well we stick before riskin' it."  
Hanzo nodded, hanging up a few sets of embroidered robes in the tiny corner cupboard they shared. McCree watched as Hanzo picked up the last case, setting it down on his bed with care and flicking open the silver clasps. He reached inside, and pulled out a large bow, unfolding and stringing it with expert hands. A quiver of blue-fletched arrows followed, and they were both propped against the wall gently. McCree whistled, impressed. The draw on that thing must be deadly tough.  
"No wonder you have such solid shoulders," he teased gently, and Hanzo glared at him.    
“You’re as brash and loud as your weapon,” he retorted, gesturing at Peacekeeper.    
“Hey,” McCree exclaimed, “I am one of Blackwatch’s finest sharpshooters. Not that I shoot as straight when I’m not on the battlefield. Don’t knock it before you try it, darlin’.”    
Hanzo stared at him.   
_ Not that I shoot as straight when I’m not on the battlefield. _   
He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this man.   
“Please stop calling me that,” Hanzo muttered finally, turning away. He couldn’t disguise how the tips of his ears burned red, and McCree silently appreciated how revealing the neat high ponytail Hanzo wore was.


	2. Nothing ventured, nothing gained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama ensues when Hanzo acts like a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come visit me over at dovahbutt.tumblr.com!
> 
> i intend to post a chapter a day for the next week or so hopefully, and then slightly less regular updates after that, depending on my workload at uni. i hope you enjoy what i've got so far!

The sound of running water woke Jesse from a restless sleep. He rolled over, squinting at the dimmed computer display on their shared desk. Six am. He rolled back over, grumbling as he buried his face back into his pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut, stifling a yawn.  
"Are you not coming for breakfast?" came Hanzo's slightly amused voice from the bathroom door.  
McCree waved a hand in his vague direction, voice muffled by the pillow, "it's a tad early, sweetheart."  
"In that case, how you manage to digest anything before you train is beyond me."  
"I have an iron clad stomach."  
He heard Hanzo huff, whether in amusement or annoyance he couldn't tell. Rolling over, he glared at the early morning offender, but felt his annoyance dissipate quickly and his expression soften as he admired his new partner. Hanzo was dressed up again in an embroidered kyudo-gi (as he had called it last night when McCree had peppered him with questions), tattoo bare, and soft ballooning trousers that tucked neatly around the top of his prosthetics.  
"You forget that I do not yet know my way around."  
"Shittt, okay, I'm getting dressed."   
McCree went for the pair of worn jeans that he'd tossed in a corner lazily, pulling them on clumsily as he made for the closet. He could feel Hanzo's questioning look on him as he pulled out his leather riding chaps, chest armour (Blackwatch issue) and hat and threw them into a messy pile on the bed.  
Buttoning up one of his many assorted plaid shirts, he rolled the sleeves to his elbows and hastily gathered his hair back from his eyes in a scruffy ponytail.  
"Leave yer bow here, we can come back and fully gear up before heading off," he suggested gently as Hanzo went for his weapon. Hanzo gripped the bow for a few seconds, brow furrowed, but sighed and left it propped against the wall before following Jesse out of the door.

They encountered no one on their way to the dining hall, silence stretching awkwardly between them. McCree yawned widely several times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He noticed that Hanzo seemed wide awake and alert in comparison as he sneaked a sidelong glance at him.  
"You usually rise early?"   
A curt nod was all he got in reply.

The sounds of clattering dishes and the quiet buzz of chatter grew steadily louder as they got closer. McCree opened one of the tall swinging doors at the end of the corridor, jumping back hastily as a beast of a man barged through. Hanzo frowned.  
__Impolite.  
His frown only grew as he gazed around the hall, taking in the other early risers of Blackwatch. They were a motley crew, and he noted to himself that they wouldn't look out of place in the mess hall of a prison. He noticed Reyes in one solitary corner of the room, nursing a mug of coffee as he looked over a datapad, a scowl gracing his rough face.  
He jumped as he felt McCree's heavy mechanical arm on his bare shoulder. The metal was ice cold.  
"Let's grab a table over there," he pointed, and Hanzo silently thanked McCree's choice not to socialise. They settled down, far away from the bustle, McCree pulling out a chair for Hanzo.  
"You do not need to baby me," he muttered.  
"I'm sorry," Jesse said, abashed. He seemed genuinely apologetic, and Hanzo winced internally. The cowboy had only done it to be polite.

He lowered his eyes and busied himself by inspecting the datapad set into the corner of the table in front of him.  
"Just use that to order the food and drink you want," McCree said, and Hanzo nodded, flicking through the options. There was a huge amount of cultural diversity in the dishes offered, for which he was thankful. He didn't wish to have to change his usual diet. In his peripheral vision, he saw McCree was watching Reyes.  
Jesse went up to collect their drinks almost immediately, returning with a mug of steaming coffee for himself and a small cup of green tea for Hanzo. Hanzo watched in mild disgust as McCree dumped three heaped teaspoons of sugar and a large amount of creamer into his mug.  
"What? Black coffee is disgusting," McCree grumbled, "I only drink it for the caffeine."  
"Then why not drink something else? Tea?"  
"Never had it, hones'ly." McCree saved himself from any indignant comments by getting up hastily to get their food, "be right back love."  
"Please don't call me that," Hanzo frowned as Jesse returned. A bowl of seasoned rice for Hanzo, a massive stack of syrupy pancakes for himself.  
McCree shrugged easily and winked, handing Hanzo his food, and, to the archer's surprise, a pair of disposable wooden chopsticks.  
"Thank you," Hanzo said, taken aback but happy. McCree smiled widely, obviously pleased as he watched Hanzo crack the chopsticks apart and busy himself digging through his rice.

They returned to their room in a somewhat less awkward silence. Hanzo was reassessing his initial opinion of McCree. The cowboy might be annoying, but he wasn't rude - name-calling aside.

_ One step at a time, _ he reassured himself.  _ Forwards. Always forwards. _

"There's no need to stare, sweetheart," McCree laughed as Hanzo paused, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, to gape in a rare moment of stupor.  
Hanzo disappeared to wash out his mouth, then returned to gesture at McCree, "you look positively awful."  
McCree held his arms out from his body, letting out an indignant splutter. He had pulled his riding chaps over his jeans, buckled his chest armour on, and had hung a very tattered black scarf-like _ thing _ around his neck. Hanzo wasn’t quite sure whether it was actually a scarf, or a repurposed blanket. It had numerous holes, frayed edges and several patches.  
He sighed, “you are the scruffiest man I have ever met.”   
“ _ Excuse _ me?”   
Hanzo knew he was being mocked and wasn’t amused.

They made a spectacularly mismatched pair as they walked side by side to the training room.    
“You’re late,” Gabriel commented, voice rough. He had a fresh cup of coffee in his grasp, and, Hanzo noticed, dark circular bruises on the exposed part of his neck, disappearing below his collar. He made a mental note to ask Jesse about that later.  
“Sorry dad, my fault,” McCree apologised, taking the blame upon himself, and Reyes gave him a long suffering look but did not comment.   
Hanzo glanced at Jesse, the sudden lightning quick motion causing his ribbon to snap through the air.   
_ Dad? Reyes cannot be  _ that __ old. And he seems hardly the family man-  
“Shimada,” Reyes addressed him curtly, distracting him from his line of thought, “as you have not yet taken part in the simulation, I will put you through a standard three waves of enemies solo as a warm up. Your individual performance will be rested more rigorously later this week, and I will be monitoring your performance alongside McCree carefully as an assessment as to whether we keep you in Blackwatch.   
The robots in the simulation are of course armed, and will shoot at you without regard to your safety. While their bullets will not kill you, they will paralyse the area they hit, and impair your ability to continue fighting. A direct hit to the head or chest will most likely knock you out temporarily, mimicking a fatality. You will certainly sport some spectacular bruises if you are not careful.” Reyes chuckled dryly, “McCree and I will watch you from the viewing platform.”

Hanzo stood warily, arrow nocked and half drawn as the environment around him morphed, taking on the likeness of a dimly lit industrial area. While the training room was small in floor area, there were plenty of places to use as cover, and the roof was several stories tall, allowing him to scale the likenesses of the sides of warehouses to gain high ground. He did this as he saw the first wave of enemies approach, nimbly vaulting over a balcony and crouching. He let loose an arrow, nailing one enemy out in the open.

He didn't have any visible enhancements, save his prosthetics, but implanted within one eye was a sensor that paired to special infra-arrows, allowing him to see the silhouettes of his enemies, even as they darted for cover. He leapt from balcony to balcony, exposing the robots one after the other to his line of fire. One arrow for each.

The second and third waves were not appreciably harder, save for having more enemies to defeat. One shot whistled past his cheek, but it did not deter him. He let nothing hit him, using cover carefully, and engaging the last enemies on the ground as he ran out of his first quiver full of arrows, neatly snapping virtual necks and dislocating virtual limbs.

Up on the viewing platform, Gabriel turned to McCree in amusement, "I think you are no longer secure in position of our best sharpshooter."  
McCree's jaw was agape, "heck, ya didn't say he was _this_ good."  
"I didn't know for sure that he was. But you do not amass such an impressive list of assassinations without having some skill. Oh, and Jesse," Reyes paused, "please don't call me dad in front of other members. It's... _unprofessional_."  
"Sorry, dad," Jesse teased, and received a none-too-gentle cuff around the ear, knocking his hat to the ground. Reyes smiled fondly, ruffling McCree’s scruffy hair, and gestured to him to follow as the simulation faded.  
They rejoined Hanzo as he finished collecting his arrows, Reyes giving him no indication of his performance, but McCree gave him a sneaky thumbs up, eyes sparkling. Hanzo shrugged, rolling his shoulders, brushing dust off his exposed chest with a nonchalant flick of his wrist.   
Reyes cleared his throat.  
"The simulations you face as a team will test how well you can work together. If you approach this as you would on your own, you will fail," Gabriel walked back to the stairs to the viewing platform, "good luck."

McCree nudged Hanzo, "I work best at mid to short range. Pistol is no replacement for a sniper, which, I gather from watching you, is how you roll."  
Hanzo didn't deign to comment, and McCree waited a few seconds before continuing awkwardly, "we'll be able to hear each other over these ear comms." He handed one to Hanzo, and they split up as the simulation unfolded.

This time the environment Hanzo recognised as similar to King's Row at night. He had never had the opportunity to visit England, his family had never had much business there, only knowing it from news reports. The buildings were delightfully easy to scale, being made of rough brick, and he perched on the top of what he took as a movie theatre, the garish light up display on the front of it illuminating the cobbles beneath him, creating neon puddles. McCree had his back pressed to a wall underneath him, peeking around the corner.  


Hanzo heard the robots before he saw them.   
"They're coming," he said curtly, and let loose an infra-arrow again. It would not benefit McCree, but that did not bother Hanzo much.  
"Stay behind the wall," Hanzo said, and as three robots came into view, he fired a carefully calculated scatter-arrow. The rebounding shots downed the enemies, and McCree swore down the comm.  
"You coulda warned me about that properly! Nearly took my hat off."  
"I told you to stay behind the wall," Hanzo said bluntly, and leaped to a new building, "keep up."  
Jesse swore again, and took a neat shot at a robot as appeared in his sights. Hanzo had disappeared. It wasn't a problem at the moment, but McCree would need the cover of a sniper as the number of enemies gradually increased. He advanced to new cover, shooting down two more, and scanned the rooftops, free hand shielding his brow.  
"Hanzo, where are you?"  
His question was partially answered as an arrow sprouted from a robot he was about to shoot. Jesse swore quietly again, "that doesn't tell me where."  
"I'm above you. Concentrate on your own issues," Hanzo said, and a bullet narrowly missed Jesse as he ducked behind cover again, giving up his search.

The hail of bullets steadily increased. Jesse darted between cover, but found it increasingly difficult to keep track of the enemies on the ground due to his limited view in the maze of streets and buildings.  
Hanzo had fallen silent.  
"Okay partner I need some more input, I can barely see them down here, there's too many places for them to hide-"  
McCree yelped and almost shot Hanzo as the archer landed beside him, "tell me what you're doing before you do it, or you'll end up with one of my bullets in you!"  
Hanzo snorted, and ran forwards, shooting robots left and right, "you're too slow and clumsy, McCree."  
"Hey, you should be sniping-" Jesse swore loudly as a bullet clipped his soft, human elbow, causing him to almost drop Peacekeeper. A robot had sneaked up on his six, and Hanzo had not been there to cover him, instead charging forward to engage the enemies Jesse should be taking out. He clumsily finished off the robot with Peacekeeper in his other hand, and heard Hanzo swear for the first time, breath ragged in the comm. He shook his arm, massaging feeling back into the elbow, and scanned the rooftops. He saw the archers silhouette clamber up a building and disappear, leaving him to face a fresh wave of enemies.  
"What happened?"  
"I'm fine"  
" _Bullshit_ , you just turned tail and ran up a building!"  
"Bullet clipped my drawing hand."

_Ah shit_ , McCree despaired. They were working poorly as a team - not for lack of trying on his part.  
"Can you please cover me, I'm moving forwards," Jesse pleaded, and Hanzo grunted. For a few minutes, silence, except for quick breaths of exertion. There were suddenly no enemies to shoot, and he reloaded Peacekeeper, scrubbing the sweat from his brow.  
Blinding pain spread across Jesse's back, and he fell to his knees, vision going black for a second, "what the fuck-"  
Hanzo had neglected to warn him of a group of robots that had spawned behind him, and he had not heard them over the loud discharges of Peacekeeper. He ran and rolled behind new cover, teeth gritted from the pain, and reloaded, hands shaking. Involuntary tears blurred his vision, and he bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood.  
"Hanzo, what the hell, you're meant to be covering me-"  
"I am otherwise engaged-"  
"What is happening?"  
"Large group-" a grunt, and the sound of his running feet, "I'm pinned down."  
"Why didn't you say sooner!" Jesse yelled, and picked off the robots pursuing him, doubled over in pain, "I could've helped."  
"You're too slow, cowboy."  
Jesse ground the words out angrily, " _where. are. you?_ "  
"Tall building with the two red boxes and a tree outside it."  
Jesse had spotted that one earlier, and limped in that direction, realising Hanzo's issue. The building stood alone, and if there were enough enemies, they could completely surround it, making it difficult to jump from the roof to the next building.  
"I'm going to jump," Hanzo growled, "I can take them by surprise."  
McCree could now see the swarm. No wonder there had been a dearth of enemies in his vicinity for a few minutes, apart from those who had snuck up on him.  
"Hanzo, I can take enough of them out in front of the front entrance to let you exit that way. They don't know I'm here"  
"I'm going to jump." Hanzo obviously didn't trust him.  
"Don't you dare-"

Too late. McCree watched in horror as Hanzo leapt, saw the one lucky bullet in the hail clip his midsection, saw Hanzo stumbled the landing and go sprawling on the neighbouring roof. The robots moved in formation to the entrance of the building in pursuit.

McCree breathed in, and out, slow and steady as he abandoned his cover, Peacekeeper raised.   
Time stretched out, sluggish, and he tipped his head slightly, conjuring the hit markers in his mind’s eye.    
Breathed in, and out.    
Felt time  _ stop _ .   
An eerie red light made a halo around his head, and the next second, the six leading robots were downed. McCree rushed forwards before more could advance, and darted up the stairs, hearing the mechanical din behind him. He burst through the access cover onto the roof, slamming it shut behind him to grant them a few precious seconds.

"Hanzo-" he gasped, body screaming at him to take a break. He could not see out of one eye, the vision streaked and blurred, and he ground his palm into his brow. He rolled the archer over, and his eyes flickered open, meeting McCree's. He had been hit directly in the chest, a black bruise spreading across the exposed skin.  
"Ah fuck-" McCree managed to gasp, before he blacked out as a bullet met the back of his head.

Only a few seconds passed before he woke up, bowed over Hanzo's body. Reyes was standing above him, scowling furiously.  
"Awh shit," McCree said, and Hanzo pushed him off, scrambling to his feet. McCree sat there on his backside, feeling like a fool, and resigned to the disappointment that would soon be directed at him.  
"That was pathetic," Reyes said, and drained the dregs of his coffee, "same time tomorrow morning. I expect your performances to be a lot better. McCree, a word.”

Hanzo left without a word, hunched over, and Jesse watched him go, a pang of emotion searing through his chest. His fingertips nursed his blind eye, the base of his skull, the small of his back. He knew the bruises were going to ruin him tomorrow morning.   
“You used the Dead Eye.”   
Reyes was staring at him, hands on his hips.   
“I panicked,” Jesse muttered defensively, “you know it gets heated in there.”   
Reyes huffed, but patted Jesse’s shoulder without further comment on the issue, instead saying gently, “go rest. You have some issues to iron out. Nothing you can’t handle, cowboy.”

Hanzo was in the bathroom when Jesse returned and he flopped onto his bed, groaning as he stretched out. He heard the shower start, and closed his eyes, drifting off into a light doze to escape the pain and exhaustion of the morning.  
Reyes had not been happy. That much he knew.  
McCree had replayed moments from the simulation back in his mind, over and over again. Hanzo was a good archer, but he could not face hordes of enemies on his own, and had refused to communicate with him. Jesse sighed, and put it down to the fact that they were a new team. Hanzo would come around. There were always hiccups to begin with.  
His previous partner had been none other than Reyes himself. It had taken them some weeks to fall into a working dynamic, but the power balance there had always fallen to the older man. After all, Reyes had all but saved his life in the beginning, had virtually adopted him, raised him, treated him like his own kid.  
Hanzo had to be approximately McCree's age, maybe a little older, and while McCree knew he had been an impressive assassin, Hanzo was new to Blackwatch and McCree had assumed he'd be the one leading - he'd been on countless Blackwatch missions and in countless simulations. Hanzo obviously did not agree. And Hanzo had obviously never worked in a team before. McCree resolved to talk to him once he'd had a shower and they'd both had time to rest and lick their wounds.

However, when McCree finally exited the steamy shower room, having gone in straight after Hanzo had come out to rid himself of the disgusting amount of sweat covering his body, Hanzo was not in their room.  
He hadn't left a note, and he had taken his bow.  
Jesse supposed he had gone to train alone, and decided he could catch him a bit later over lunch.  
But Hanzo did not return for lunch. Or for dinner. After he had eaten, alone again, McCree wandered around the compound, peering into the shooting ranges and training rooms. Hanzo was nowhere to be found.  
He had brought Peacekeeper as an afterthought, and, once he had given up the search, lost himself in his own small world as he did a few rounds of shooting practise, collecting his target papers at the end. A perfect score each time. He tossed them in the trash.   
_ It doesn’t mean anything if I can’t get this partnership to work. _

His hopes were dashed yet again as he returned to his empty room at eleven, tossing Peacekeeper on the bed and going to the vacant bathroom to clean up.  
_ Is Hanzo avoiding me?  
_ He took a cigar out onto their small balcony and leaned back in the single chair, spurs up on the wall. Even though he smoked cigar after cigar until one in the morning, his roommate still did not return, and Jesse gave up caring as he collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed.


	3. Deja vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they'll kiss and make up soon, i promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the phrases enclosed in <> are intended to be said in spanish; i do not want to butcher this with google translate (if anyone fluent wants to supply translations, that would be amazing of them)

The sound of running water woke Jesse from a restless sleep. He felt a weird pang of deja vu.  
"Hanzo?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes and swinging his legs around into a sitting position.  
"Mmm?" came a tired mumble from the bathroom, and Hanzo stood in the doorway, blinking blearily, running a comb through his dishevelled hair. He had yet to get dressed, and wore only a loose tank top and shorts. The skin where his prosthetics met his thighs was mottled with ropey white scars, the undamaged skin inflamed and puffy.  
"Where were you last night?" McCree was too tired and sleep muddled to be angry at him.  
Hanzo just shrugged, and moved to one side so Jesse could use the bathroom.

The day seemed to repeat that of the day before, but the silence between them was tinged with hostility from Hanzo. McCree was confused, but his body was in discomfort and a headache threatened his composure, so he stayed tight-lipped.  
Again, Reyes was disappointed. Again, he told them that their performance was pathetic, again, he told them to buck up their ideas.  
Again, Hanzo disappeared for the rest of the day. Jesse's temper became more frayed, but again, he internalised his anger.

The next day was the same. The deja vu became overwhelming and McCree now sported a near constant headache, despite all the pills he knocked back to try and alleviate it. He had been smoking more and more, staying up later and later, getting less and less sleep. It was partly due to stress, partly out of self-loathing, and partly because he just wanted to see Hanzo return in the night and talk it out, make amends. But he never did.  
The bags underneath Hanzo's eyes became darker by the day and his silences became angrier.

The fourth day broke the monotony. McCree stumbled from exhaustion, cracking his mechanical arm on the partially collapsed wall he was using as cover, and the shot that he missed - he missed a shot, that had never happened before, and his brain could only supply a feeling of disbelief and overwhelming guilt as he fell to one knee - missed Hanzo by an inch. The robot that he had been aiming for - he had been covering Hanzo, who had decided to recklessly get up close and personal with a small group of them - had turned and shot Hanzo point blank in the sternum, knocking him out briefly. Hanzo rolled over after a long, painful second, coughing up blood, and the simulation ended.  
"What the fuck-" Hanzo had sworn at McCree violently, wiping the blood from his lips.  
Reyes stormed towards them both and repeated the sentiment, but not just at McCree. Hanzo froze and turned on Reyes.  
"Excuse me?"  
Reyes had never looked so angry, "that was a _ shitstorm _ . You are at fault as much as McCree is. Look at the state of you two. You look like you haven't slept in days. You can hardly move. Your teamwork is appalling. McCree, I expect better from my protegee. Hanzo, I expect better from someone of your status."    
Gabriel spat at their feet, and McCree flinched violently as if he had been slapped across the face. "I do not want to see you in this training room until you have gotten your act together. Take this outside, both of you. I do not want to see you argue or brawl in the halls. You are  _ dismissed _ ."

Hanzo stormed down the corridor and slammed open the heavy exit door, squinting in the bright sunlight. McCree tailed after him, hands and shoulders raised placatingly as Hanzo rounded on him, shoulders squared and bow raised.  
"Darlin'-"  
" _Don't._ Don't call me that," Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose between the thumb and index finger of his gloved hand and breathed out slowly, trying to wrest back some semblance of control over his anger.  
"Okay. Hanzo," McCree sighed, minimising his southern drawl as much as he possibly could, "you are horseshit at working as a team."  
Hanzo spluttered, caught off guard, "excuse me?"  
"You heard me," even McCree's patience was gone now, "you cannot work in a team to save your life. You're so goddamn proud and you won't let me take some of the weight, even when you're struggling." McCree ignored the rising storm he could see building in Hanzo's expression.  
"Just stop thinking about your bullshit honour for one precious second-"  
Time stretched into slow motion as McCree heard Hanzo snarl, saw his sculpted lips curling over his canines. He was glued in place, horrified, as he watched him raise his bow, draw and aim at his head lightning fast, and let loose an arrow. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and stumble backwards.

One. Two. Three seconds passed. There was no pain. McCree gasped in a breath and opened his eyes, falling forwards.

He was still alive.

He reached up gingerly to feel the top of his head, and balked. His hat was gone. Whipping around, he followed the line of fire to a birch tree behind him. Stark against the white trunk, his hat was pinned to the tree, neatly crucified by Hanzo's arrow.  
"You... You..."  
McCree felt the blood thunder in his ears as he faced Hanzo again. The adrenaline was no longer borne of the panic of almost dying but instead of hot anger in the pit of his stomach. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that Hanzo had taken a step back, clutching his chest, and his sharp face had drained of all colour.  
Jesse squared his shoulders, breathing heavily, torn between crushing the life out of the man in front of him and rescuing his hat. He had not felt anger like this in months. It blinded out all rational thoughts with a red haze. He stormed forward, and his hands shook violently as he reached up and pulled his hat down.  
"Jesse-"  
He crushed the arrow in his fist like it was a dry twig. When he turned around again, clenched fist raised, he realised Hanzo had bolted.

The bright chirping of a sparrow high in the branches of the resting place of his hat snapped him out of it. Hot tears pricked his eyelashes and he slowly sat underneath the tree, running his fingers over the new holes in the worn leather. He finally lumbered to his feet, weighed down by an emptiness that crushed his chest, and slowly made his way back to their room. He knew Hanzo wouldn’t be there.   
  


He had fucked up, big time.

 

~

 

He had fucked up, big time.

Hanzo had made plenty of mistakes, and he felt the distinctive clawing of shame in his stomach. He suppressed the memory of his father scolding him loudly, resting his head between his knees. Nobody came up onto the roof, and he knew McCree would never think to look for him here. The solitude could be soothing or crushing. 

_ I need to… Swallow my pride. _

_ I need to make it up to him, somehow.... _

The words that the cowboy had said echoed in his head, and he recognised the truth in them. He had never worked in a team before. Now he had been forced into a close working relationship with someone who was still a complete stranger, and this complete stranger had pointed out all of his major flaws. And, instead of apologising and trying harder, Hanzo had made it worse by letting his stubbornness get the better of him.  
The tea between his palms was growing cold in the breeze. He sipped it absentmindedly, and fingered the strip of fabric in his hair.

_ How do I make amends? _

The first task, he decided, was to find out why the hat meant so much to Jesse. Then he could hopefully get a replacement, if there wasn't a sentimental reason. He didn't know what else he could do, apart from work harder, but that was too little, too late. Right now, training with Jesse would probably only rub salt in the wounds.

As far as he was aware, Jesse was not close to anyone here. Hanzo had never seen him socialise beyond a few generic sentences of greeting. Their breakfasts had been solitary, and Jesse always smoked alone, always locked himself in one of the shooting ranges alone. That made his task difficult. He slowly realised that by being standoffish, he had been incredibly selfish. McCree didn't have any friends. Hanzo had so far rejected any of the peace offerings he'd been offered, because of his pride. He had been so caught up in his own problems that while McCree had tried his best to learn about Hanzo, even despite how prickly Hanzo had been, Hanzo had never tried to learn about McCree.

Even the relationship between McCree and Reyes seemed one-sided. McCree obviously idolised him, saw him as some kind of father figure, but Reyes seemed to hold him at arm's length.

_ Oh. He could ask Reyes. _

Hanzo chewed this over. If there was any other option, he would have taken it in a heartbeat. Reyes was not exactly happy with him at the moment, and he seemed a cold and distant man at the best of times.

Hanzo had been up on the roof so long that the sun was setting, casting long shadows across his surroundings. He resolved to ask Reyes in the morning. It was at least convenient that they didn't have training.    
He peered over to the other side of the compound, where he had a clear view of his and McCree's balcony, watching as McCree threw the remains of his cigar onto the rocks below angrily and stalked back inside. He would be going to sleep. Hanzo stood up, hissing as the massive bruise on his chest smarted, and made his way back inside, dropping the flask off in the empty kitchen before creeping inside their room. He had a quick shower as McCree snored, oblivious, and set his alarm.

It had been correct to guess that Jesse would use the most of his free morning to lie in and make up for the lost sleep. Hanzo rolled out of bed, dressed hastily and quietly, and took off down the hall before he woke him.   
He had learnt from searching the compound thoroughly in their downtime (while avoiding McCree) that Reyes’ room was number 3. Reyes probably would not be happy at all to see him, especially uninvited and at this hour, so he made a quick detour to the kitchen to pick up a big mug of black coffee and fresh churros, which he had seen Gabriel eating several times for breakfast or after dinner. The snack was foreign to him, but the smell of cinnamon and sweet caramel made him salivate involuntarily.

It took a few minutes for Gabriel to answer the door, and he stood there, arms folded across his bare chest, one eyebrow raised at Hanzo. His dark skin was peppered with pale scars and thick curly dark hair covered his broad chest.  
“What time do you call this Shimada? You have the day off. And all days until you can get your act together. If this is a peace offering, it's not going to work.”  
Hanzo watched with a faint smile as Gabriel eyed up the food hungrily, regardless of what he had said.  
“No, actually,” he admitted, “I just wanted to ask you a question.”  
Gabriel relented and took the food, placing the coffee mug on a small table inside the door to attack later. He dipped a churro, chewing as he considered Hanzo through narrowed eyes.  
“Fire away,” he said dryly.  
“Jesse’s hat. Why is it so special to him?”  
Reyes’ chewing slowed to a halt and he swallowed, face suddenly guarded.  
“Why?”  
“I… Lost my temper yesterday. My actions were inexcusable. An arrow ended up in his hat.”  
The tension was relieved as Gabriel snorted and grabbed another churro, “boy you are in deep _< shit>_, I can tell you that. The hat belonged to his late brother. That's all I'm gonna tell you, the rest is McCree’s story.”  
 _Ah shit_ , Hanzo’s insides had turned to ice, _ah shit_.  
“If that's all, I'm going to eat this and go back to bed,” Reyes said, “thanks kid. I appreciate the food. McCree will forgive you, that boy is _< a softie>_.” He licked the sugar from his fingers appreciatively. Hanzo let out a mental sigh of relief.   
Jesse had been right - after all, there had been no reason for him to be wrong, but Hanzo had judged him unfairly. Gabriel wasn’t so heartless.

They both froze as a distinctly male voice from inside Gabriel’s room complained loudly, “Gabe, come back to bed, it’s getting cold.”  
Gabriel called back, glaring at Hanzo as he did, “Coming, cariño.”  
“You did _ not  _ hear that,” he growled at Hanzo, and slammed the door shut after him.

Gabriel sighed heavily as he regarded the offending lump taking up most of the space in his bed. The beautiful, stupid man he loved. Golden hair made a halo around his head, the colour of summer cornfields, and sky blue eyes regarded him softly.   
“Jack Morrison,” Gabriel scolded quietly, “the fuck, cariño. No one is meant to know you are here.”   
Jack smiled, all sunshine, and gestured to Gabriel to join him in the bed. They lay pressed into each other, yin and yang, the light and the dark.   
Jack grabbed a churro from where Gabriel had propped the plate on their side table, and munched it enthusiastically.    
“You always manage to get your recruits to suck up to you,” he laughed, “don’t worry, I doubt it will spread. Who was that?”   
“New partner for Jesse,” Gabriel said, “Hanzo Shimada. Genji’s older brother.”   
Jack stopped chewing, expression suddenly becoming concerned, “Genji’s murderer. Does he know his brother is alive and serving Overwatch?”   
“No,” Gabriel sighed, “and it will remain that way until Genji decides it is time to seek him out. It is not our place to put those events into motion.”   
“Then you wish me not to tell Genji, either?”   
Gabriel nodded, “they will have no opportunity to cross paths.” Jack buried his face into Gabriel’s shoulder, running a hand over his partner’s chest, playing with the coarse hair. Gabriel kissed his forehead, his temple, then his lips, biting gently, coaxing a sleepy moan.   
“What’s the time?”   
“Seven.”   
“Then we have an hour…”   
Gabriel chuckled, and obliged Jack’s unsaid suggestion, straddling his hips to kiss him again, deeper, then sucking dark bruises into his pale skin. Jack glared.   
“Something to remember me by.”

 


	4. Small world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo has a lot of unanswered questions and a lot of guilt

Hanzo stood outside Reyes’ door for a moment, mind rifling through the new information. 

_ So, Gabriel has a boyfriend. Or, at the very least, a one night stand. But that means Gabriel is gay, or bi- _

Hanzo bit his lip, suppressing an involuntary upsurge of emotion. 

_ Focus on the task at hand. _

He needed to get McCree something to make up for the damaged hat; he knew now he couldn't replace it. He settled with taking a repulsor bike from the communal garage into the nearest town and going for a bit of window shopping. 

Thankfully, he had pulled on an old tshirt and jeans, rather than his customary kyudo-gi. Wearing that, he would have stood out like a sore thumb and despite the fact it was extremely unlikely that anyone would recognise him here, he still preferred anonymity. 

_ Old habits die hard. _

Even so, his distinctly foreign features and hair style drew a few side glances. He felt naked without his bow.

Hanzo walked up the main high street slowly, having parked his bike down a side road, and pulled up a map on his phone. Shops were just starting to open - it was only nine - and there was not yet many people looking around. He needed to be quick. In and out.  
_ Delicatessen? American sweet shop? _ He exited the sweet shop with a bag of assorted candies he had pulled randomly off the shelves. He didn't know what McCree liked, but he knew for certain that the cowboy had a sweet tooth. A memory had come back to him - the Reese’s pieces wrapper when he had first met Gabriel - and so he had picked up several packets of the peanut butter cups. He had decided that sweetening Gabriel up further would not be the worst idea.   
He didn't care much for sweets himself, but missed the delicate flavour of the mochi and dorayaki from home.  _ Genji would drag him out in the late afternoons to buy them from street vendors, pulling him by one hand, head thrown back in a gleeful laugh as Hanzo rushed to keep up-  
_ He suppressed the memories almost instantly, instinctively, and turned his mind back to the search. 

A few shops later and he still only had the sweets. Approaching a side alley, he had noticed on the map what had just been marked as a vintage shop, but what clearly from the outside looked like it had been pulled straight from an old western movie.   
Perfect.   
A few motorbikes were parked to one side, not the modern repulsor kind - old, petrol engine ones, with worn tyres. A rare sight these days.  
He pushed the door open, and the cheerful jingle of a bell announced his presence.  Hanzo found he had to suppress a flinch at the sudden noise, and still the hammering of his heart. He was on edge, keyed up. He consciously took a deep breath, exhaled, and walked forward.  
Behind the counters was a withered old lady, wispy grey hair pulled back into a bun with a polka dot bow. Oddly enough, she was wearing a leather, oil splattered apron over a floral shirt. Practicality and whimsy.  
“Hello dear,” she smiled, “after anything specific?”  
“Just browsing,” Hanzo deflected, and gazed around. Rough horse blankets, leather belts and hats, gun holsters, plaid shirts, worn jeans.  
 _This is probably McCree’s idea of heaven_ , Hanzo thought wryly. He picked up one of the hats and admired the soft leather, rubbing it between his fingertips. But he couldn't replace the one he had damaged. Sentimental value was too high a price.  
McCree probably wouldn't have any use for a horse blanket, and the cupboard was already full of his shirts.

Hanzo moved further into the store, and looked over what appeared to be… Giant scarves. Jesse had one, a tattered black one with blue trim that was in an awful state of disrepair. Countless holes had been patched with not much skill, and it had reached a point where it was more patches than original material. Hanzo had commented snidely on it before, and Jesse had shrugged, saying he had not yet been able to afford a new one, that it was still in one piece and therefore it was serviceable. Hanzo had let it drop, knowing he would make no headway trying to get Jesse to neaten up  
He picked up a red one, letting the fabric slide through his fingers. It was heavy, but soft, very soft.  
“Our quality serapes,” the old lady said, “great for keeping warm on the chilly nights.” Her southern accent was subdued, but still there, “you buyin’ it as a gift?”  
“Yes,” Hanzo said, running a finger over the golden trim, “as an apology.”  
“Had a falling out? What did you do, love?”  
“We got into an argument. I was being pig-headed,” Hanzo admitted, though he was not sure why he was opening up to someone he did not know, “it got violent and I damaged a hat that meant a lot to him. It was inexcusable, and I want to make it up to him.”  
She smiled again, “we all make mistakes. I'm sure he’ll forgive you. Of course, a present never goes awry.” She laughed quietly.  
“He'd love it in here,” Hanzo commented after an awkward pause, “He dresses like a cowboy from one of those old movies. Scruffy man. Always strutting around in his spurs, singing awful country songs.”  
He took the serape to the counter, folding it again to save the lady the trouble.  
“I hope Jesse likes it,” he sighed quietly as he paid. Gifts were difficult, and this one was important.  
“Oh, young Jesse McCree I take it,” the lady chuckled, “I'm glad he's found a friend.”  
“You know him?” Hanzo was immediately on guard again, but the lady did not seem to notice his sudden tenseness, or the way his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
“Oh you were right when you said he'd love it in here dear. He comes in every couple of weeks and clears out our cigar cabinet. Awful habit, smoking. He keeps promising me he’ll quit but he never does, silly boy.”  
Hanzo blinked, “oh.”  
“He’ll love the serape. That tatty old one he has is well passed the respectable stage. I'll wrap it for you dear.”  
Nodding, Hanzo watched her wrap the serape carefully in brown paper and tie a piece of string around it several times, ending in a bow. She rummaged behind the desk for a second and handed him a packet of cigars with one withered hand.  
“On me. Tell that naughty kid that should be his last pack.”

It was a small world. 

~

The trip back was uneventful, but Hanzo’s mind was racing. He carefully filed each remarkable memory. Jesse’s late brother’s hat. Gabriel’s… One night stand? Boyfriend? Husband? The old lady in the store who seemed to know McCree.  
He parked the bike back in the large communal garage-come-workshop, weaving around the crates littered around and half-emptied over the floor. Someone needed to clear this place up. The kitchen was busy when he entered, and he waited patiently for his order of churros, pancakes, tea and coffee (lots of sugar and cream), avoiding the questioning and sometimes hostile gazes directed at him. In the brief days he’d been here, he had not socialised with anyone outside of McCree and Gabriel, and had avoided everyone at all costs.  
He thanked his steady hands as he balanced the overloaded tray, bag of sweets hanging off one arm, cigars and parcel tucked under the other. Getting through the door unaided took a feat of acrobatic skill, but he did not wish to wake Jesse quite yet.

McCree was snoring quietly on his back in only his boxers, sheets kicked around his ankles, prosthetic arm hanging down the side of the other bed and the other flung behind his head. Hanzo studied his partner, gaze drifting down his muscled chest, lingering on the thick hair that trailed down into his boxers. Guiltily, he looked away, a blush tinging his cheeks. He placed the tray on the side table, and gripped Jesse’s bare shoulder, shaking him gently.  
“Jesse McCree, it's noon. You've missed training.”  
“It's highhh noon,” Jesse slurred, and rubbed his eyes, “wait, what? Shit, was dad pissed at me? Oh boy…”  
McCree rolled out of bed, bumping clumsily into Hanzo, who stood in place like a rock.  
He sighed, reaching out a hand to steady the cowboy, “I was joking. We don't have training. We do, however, have breakfast, and I have an apology to make.”  
Jesse peered down at him, staring at the archer's hand where it rested on his bare stomach. He rubbed the nape of his neck, ruffling his scruffy bed hair, a slight pink tinge suffusing his cheeks. Hanzo noticed the blush and removed his hand as if he'd been electrocuted, looking away.   
“Breakfast? Apology?” McCree questioned, a nervous laugh behind his words. He noticed the tray of food and beamed, eyes lighting up, “oh! Breakfast!”\  
Hanzo took a deep breath. “Jesse, I'm sorry. I lost my temper yesterday. My actions were inexcusable. And you were correct, I am a lousy team player, and I will do my best to fix that.” He exhaled heavily, “I didn't realise how much your hat meant to you, and understanding the sentiment behind it makes me realise how abhorrent my behaviour was.”

_ Genji would be proud _ , he thought sadly. He had always found it difficult to let go of his pride and admit he was wrong, and his brother had always scolded him for it.

Jesse was staring at Hanzo in surprise, and couldn't form a coherent sentence. Hanzo used the silence to grab the presents and press them against McCree’s chest. He took them, and raised an eyebrow.  
“What's this, sweetheart?”  
For once, Hanzo let the nickname slide unchallenged, “I have to make it up to you somehow.”  
Jesse first tipped the contents of the bag of sweets onto his bed, cracking a grin as he rifled through the assortment.  
“You buy the whole sweetshop or somethin’?” He chuckled, and picked one packet up, “oh, cowtails, my favourite! Hanzo, hones’ly, you didn't have to-”  
Hanzo tutted and pressed the parcel against McCree again to shut him up, “here.”  
He waited, heart hammering as he watched Jesse unwrap it carefully. He held up the long heavy piece of cloth, stroking it gently, face rapt.

The silence was agonising. 

“Do you like it?” Hanzo asked, panicking.  
“Sweetheart, it's beautiful.” To Hanzo’s mortification it looked like Jesse was about to cry, and his voice cracked, “darling, this musta cost a fortune, there was no need. Hell, I'd already forgiven ya’. I can't stay mad for long. But,” he caught Hanzo’s upset expression, “I really, really appreciate it. I really do. It's _beautiful_.”  
Jesse wrapped it around his bare shoulders, still running his hands over it. He looked at Hanzo, watched him shuffling his feet in embarrassment, and felt something hot blooming in his chest. No one, bar Gabriel, had shown such kindness to him. He charged forwards boisterously, and swept Hanzo up into a massive bear hug, lifting the short man into the air.  
“Get off!” Hanzo exclaimed, the wind knocked out of him. McCree held him for five long seconds, and Hanzo breathed in the smell of cigar ash, softening in his arms.  
“Oh!” He exclaimed as he was reluctantly put down, “the lady at the store said she knew you.” He guilty realised he didn't know her name. “She asked me to give these to you.”  
He retrieved the packet of cigars from the floor where they'd been knocked accidentally, “and she told me this is the last packet you're getting from her.”  
McCree beamed, “she doesn't mean it really. She'd miss me and my business if I stopped buying her cigars.”  
“She is right though,” Hanzo commented, wrinkling his nose, “it's a dirty habit. You smell like an ashtray.”  
McCree hushed him, and they both sat in companionable silence on his bed, his hands still running over the fabric of his soft new serape.

After a long but for once, a comfortable silence, McCree said quietly, “I'm sorry I got so mad as well, Hanzo.”  
“It was justified,” Hanzo replied, eyes lowered, “I visited Reyes this morning. I didn't want to buy you a new hat if that one meant a lot to you.”  
“So you know it was my brothers then.”  
“Yes. I'm sorry for prying.”  
“Ah, s’okay,” McCree sighed, glancing over at the hat where it lay on the cabinet, “I've lived under that grief for too long. You reach a point where you either move on, or get crushed by the guilt and sadness.”  
Hanzo’s vision blurred and he bit the side of his mouth, tasting the hot metallic tang of blood as he willed the tears to not fall.  
McCree gently put a hand on Hanzo's arm as he trembled. He was grateful that Jesse didn't question him, but instead sat quietly with Hanzo while he composed himself again.  
“Do you want to go to the shooting range?” Jesse asked gently, “we need to find a way to impress Gabe over the next few days.”  
Hanzo nodded, and smiled genuinely for the first time in days, “let's eat breakfast first.”


	5. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and Jesse's relationship has taken a turn for the better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to create a filler character for this one, my apologies. I hope it doesn't detract too much from the overall feel of the fic
> 
> Tomorrow's chapter is going to have some very juicy content, so keep your eyes peeled~

They wandered down to the shooting ranges, shoulder to shoulder. McCree was chattering away about some of the missions he had run in the past, and Hanzo was quietly asking questions, mindful of what McCree was saying. The frostiness between them was finally beginning to thaw.  
 _Strange, how everything can turn around so quickly,_ Hanzo thought, watching Jesse as he gesticulated, laughing at the story he was telling, his whole body shaking and dimples appearing on his cheeks.  
Dimples. Hanzo stared, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.    
“Gabriel was not happy with me after that, I’ll tell ya..” Jesse grinned, and Hanzo snorted quietly in amusement.   
“How was life as an assassin for hire?” Jesse asked after a pause, meeting Hanzo eye-to-eye, “I mean, I’ve spent most of my life under someone else’s heel. Not saying anything bad ‘bout Gabriel, course, this life is a dream after what I ran around doing as a kiddo but…”   
“Difficult,” Hanzo admitted, breaking eye contact to stare at his hands, “when I ran away I lost everything except the clothes on my back, my bow, and a small bag of supplies. I lost my inheritance. I was working purely to scrape by and survive for a long time. It becomes easier when you work up a reputation and more lucrative work comes in, but one slip up would have destroyed my life, and while harder jobs brought in more money, they often had huge risks. Not to mention having my clan on my back as well...”   
“So Blackwatch has a good job security in comparison then, huh?”   
Hanzo laughed quietly, “as long as Reyes doesn’t kick me out, yes. It’s also nice to not be constantly on the move for once.”   
McCree hummed in agreement.  
“So,” Hanzo said, “what did you do before Blackwatch?”    
McCree slowed to a halt, taking his hat off and twisting it between his hands, “I uh…”   
Hanzo felt a prickle of guilt, “you don’t have to say. Your secrets are your own to keep.”   
The cowboy nodded, replacing his hat on his head, “thanks sweetheart. It might be best to keep that story for another time, I think.”   


They took it in turns to shoot, sharing the same range and watching each other carefully. Hanzo was growing to understand McCree’s style a lot more intimately. Using Peacekeeper had a much different rhythm in comparison to his Storm bow. The vulnerability came when McCree had to reload (though he was lightning fast), and he was deadliest when he had a full hammer to fan.    
“How much can ya do with the bow?” McCree asked, “I saw your scattering arrows when they almost took my hat off several times.”   
Hanzo smiled slightly, “my apologies. And I can do a surprising amount. Put up three targets in a row.”   
McCree did as he was bidden and watched as Hanzo nocked three arrows, took careful aim, and each one was pierced. Jesse let out a low whistle.   
“That’s somethin’.”   
“Simple geometry,” Hanzo said, smug.

Hanzo handed him another arrow from his quiver, a glowing band tracing the circumference of a more rounded head, “this one is an infra-arrow. I have an implant in one of my eyes; it allows me to see the infra-red impression of a spherical area around where the arrow pierces, but only for a limited amount of time. Useful for tracking unseen enemies. And you’ve seen the scatter version.”   
McCree nodded, “high tech. Where do you get them?”   
“I made them myself. Although,” Hanzo frowned, brow creasing in contemplation, “I am running low on supplies. Enough to last me a day or two more, but I will need to somehow get the supplies to make more.”   
“I can take you to visit our quartermaster after this if you like,” Jesse offered.   
Hanzo looked at him and hummed softly, “some of the supplies I need are very difficult to obtain in this country. I didn’t expect to live outside of Hanamura when I formulated them.”   
“Trust me darlin’, she’s got contacts all over. She’s as good as they come,” McCree promised, “she’ll sort you out.”   
“Okay. I’ll trust you on this.”    
McCree beamed.    
_ He’s handsome when he smiles, in a scruffy sort of way. Like a stray puppy. _ Hanzo huffed, and pushed the sudden fondness to one side.

“Hey Hanzo,” McCree’s smile was mischievous as he caught Hanzo’s eye.    
_ Oh dear. _   
“Yes, Jesse?”   
“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”   
Hanzo sighed at the childish request, but to his own surprise, he obeyed. McCree’s hands were an odd contrast in his, one warm and rough, the other cold and smooth. Suddenly, there was warm heavy metal in his palms instead.   
He opened his eyes in surprise. Peacekeeper was surprisingly weighty in his grip.   
“Give her a whirl if ya want, sweetheart.”   
Hanzo frowned, weighing up the offer and trying to see the catch, “I suppose that means you want to try my bow in exchange.”   
Jesse waggled his eyebrows, “I won’t hold it against ya if ya refuse sweetpea. Just wan’ you to try my baby.”   
“If you’re looking to humiliate me, then you are sorely mistaken.” In one swift, smooth motion, Hanzo raised Peacekeeper and nailed the centre of the target once, twice, three times.   
McCree ran one hand through his hair, pushing his fringe back as he considered what had just happened.    
He realised he might be slightly aroused.   
“Phew, easy there,” he chuckled nervously as Hanzo turned around, examining Peacekeeper nonchalantly. He willed his blush to not show too much. But Peacekeeper was a part of him, and watching Hanzo handle it was doing things to him.   
He was slightly relieved when Hanzo handed it back, a serene smile gracing his features.   
“Not bad at all,” Hanzo said, imitating McCree’s southern accent poorly, then blushed bright red in embarrassment and turned around to hide his face in his hands.   
McCree burst out laughing and clapped Hanzo on the shoulder, “you’ll make a cowboy yet, pardner.”

“Alright, your turn,” Hanzo said gruffly, handing over the bow with less reluctance than Jesse had expected. McCree had the feeling he was trying to brush off his embarrassment and divert the attention; after all, there was no doubt he was going to embarrass himself trying out the unfamiliar weapon.    
“Posture is very important,” Hanzo instructed, tugging Jesse around until he was rudimentarily satisfied. He poked Jesse in the small of the back and was rewarded with a yelp.   
“Okay, you need to keep the arm holding the bow straight, yes, that’s correct. Look down the arrow, mhm, pull…”   
Jesse pulled back the string, and his muscles started trembling as he struggled to keep it drawn. He released prematurely, and the arrow arced into the ground at the foot of the target.   
Hanzo chuckled, and took the bow back, “work on your shoulders, then you can try again,  _ cowboy _ .”   
McCree muttered excuses under his breath but nudged Hanzo, shoulder against shoulder, “thanks for letting me try, darlin’.”   
Hanzo had let all the pet names slide without challenge. “No problem,” he said, and patted Jesse’s back awkwardly.

~

Hanzo paused mid-bite, letting some noodles slip off his chopsticks as he subtly glanced over McCree’s shoulder, eyes narrowing.   
“What’s up?” McCree frowned, reaching out and touching the hand Hanzo had resting on the table.    
“On your six, there’s a group of four guys talking. They keep glancing over to us, and I heard them say your name, but I can’t work out what else they’re saying.”   
Jesse picked at his eggs, “oh.”   
“What’s wrong?” Hanzo touched McCree’s hand back to regain his attention.   
“Don’t worry about them,” McCree muttered, “jerks.”   
“Jesse, what happened?” This time Hanzo didn’t let go of McCree’s hand and squeezed gently, rubbing his palm with his thumb. Jesse didn’t withdraw from the contact, staring at their joined hands, blushing faintly, but didn’t look Hanzo in the eye.   
“They’ve given me shit in the past, but it doesn’t matter. Don’t ask.” He stood up abruptly, grabbed his plate, food unfinished, and pulled Hanzo with him, “let’s go.”   
Looking regretfully as his half finished noodles, Hanzo nevertheless followed without comment. He was deeply unsettled at McCree’s behaviour. He realised suddenly that he had grown very close to Jesse in a very short amount of time, despite his unwillingness and their arguing and bad chemistry to begin with. It had just taken the small step that morning to let go of his pride and let Jesse in.

Subdued and unhappy, McCree led Hanzo down the side corridors. He hadn’t expected any trouble since Gabriel had intervened on his behalf some months prior. Some of the people hired by Blackwatch were from straight-up criminal backgrounds - himself included. But, unlike him, some of them could be very nasty and bigoted. Their behaviour was only put up with because Blackwatch had a very small pool of skilled people, and to let them go may mean letting them go from the land of the living. As it was, Gabriel had given them a “strong word.” Since then, they’d avoided him, and that had worked out just dandy. But now Hanzo had been dropped into the mix, they had a new target. From the reason they’d tormented McCree in the past, he realised they probably construed his relationship with Hanzo as something it wasn’t, and he didn’t want to have that conversation with Hanzo yet.  
  
“This is it,” he rapped his knuckles against the steel door, and shouted, “howdy!”   
A minute passed, and Hanzo was about to pull McCree back to their room, when the door slid open and a very short woman punched McCree in the arm.   
“Oof!” Nice to see you too,” he chuckled as he saw Hanzo’s alarmed expression, “Alana, this is Hanzo, my new partner. Hanzo, Alana.”   
“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna bring your new catch by to introduce,” Alana said. Her tone and presentation was of boisterous energy; she wore baggy overalls, dark hair pulled back into a plait, bare arms covered in scars, dirt and what looked like engine oil. “Come inside boys.”   
Jesse nodded encouragingly towards Hanzo, and led him into the warehouse.   
“What can I do for you today?” Alana asked, grabbing a clipboard and a stubby pencil from the top of a crate. The warehouse was mostly bare, a few crates and engine parts scattered over the floor, but the area where Alana had made her camp was littered with empty mugs, dirty plates, schematics, rolls of paper, pencils, various metal parts, electronics… It was a treasure trove of  _ stuff _ .   
“I need my usual shipment of ammo,” McCree pulled a crate up and sat down on top of it, gesturing for Hanzo to join him, “and Hanzo needs some difficult-to-get-hold-of parts for makin’ arrows.”   
“Arrows? In this day an’ age?”   
Hanzo huffed, and McCree laughed, “you got it, girl. This man is the finest archer in all the land.”   
“Alright, hit me up big boy,” Alana dropped him an exaggerated wink and Hanzo shifted uncomfortably.   
Hanzo rattled off a long list from memory, stopping every now and again to describe a part, and Alana scribbled everything down in great detail.   
“I don’t know how to express this one,” Hanzo admitted, “I can give you the Japanese name but-”   
“<Go for it>” Alana smiled, switching over to Japanese easily. Hanzo froze, and then carried the conversation on in his native tongue.   
McCree half listened to them, leaning against the solid, warm rock that was Hanzo. His voice was very pleasant to listen to, especially in Japanese. Though he spoke English completely fluently, his accent was somewhat stilted, but now he sounded almost melodic as he spoke. He was roused by Alana slapping her thigh.   
“You’re certainly making my job difficult,” she laughed, “I relish this fresh challenge. I should be able to get them for the day after tomorrow, shuttle schedule permitting. Now shoo, go on, I have work I need to get back to.”   
She shepherded them both out, flapping her hands, and they stood in the corridor, Hanzo’s eyebrow raised at McCree.   
“She’s a character,” McCree grinned, “you’ll get used to it darlin’.”   
Hanzo hummed, and let McCree lead him slowly back to their room.


	6. Ghosts of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo and Jesse learn to open up to each other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of this chapter was really painful to write, and I'm gonna put a trigger warning here for homophobic slurs. The next chapter will also be quite dark, but hopefully things will cheer up after that.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me so far! This is a nice long chapter, I hope you enjoy

Jesse stretched, rolling his shoulders as he tossed his hat onto the bed, and folded his new serape up carefully. They had spent the rest of the day relaxing outside, enjoying the mild weather, and had just returned from a late dinner. Neither of them had been in the mood for training or working out. Hanzo had meditated, and Jesse had quietly admired the view. The sunset hadn’t looked bad either.   
Hanzo plopped himself down opposite him, and McCree noticed he was absentmindedly rubbing his thighs, just above where his prosthetics joined his legs.

_ Come to think of it, my arm has been becoming more and more uncomfortable as the week has worn on. _ Jesse had worn it for much longer on missions in the past, but it did him good to take it off and have a few nights sleep without it once in awhile. 

McCree cleared his throat and asked awkwardly, “prosthetics giving you a hard time?”  
Hanzo stared at him for a heartbeat, then looked down to where he had been nursing his thighs, “... Yes, actually.”  
“I always find that training using them constantly and sleeping with them as well does yer body in. It pays to take a break every now and again, keep yerself in good working order. ‘Specially when you don't need to wear them constantly, if you're not on a mission.”    
Hanzo nodded, but kept staring at his feet silently. Jesse understood his reluctance. While the ice between them seemed to have been finally breached, they were not the best of friends by a long shot. And it took a heck of a lot of trust to bare your vulnerability in front of someone, even more so when you'd only known that person a week.

He knew he'd have to be the one to break this ice. Hanzo’s stubbornness and pride would forbid it of him, and McCree knew the other man would find no problem in suffering in silence.  
It was a daunting prospect, however. McCree’s metal prosthetic was strong, in many ways better than his ordinary arm, and he fumbled without it. He glanced at Hanzo, who was still silent. His injury couldn't even be compared. To have to manage without both legs…  
Jesse reached up resolutely, and unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto his bed to join his hat. He then very carefully felt round the rim of his prosthetic, undoing the seal, and slowly easing it off. He noticed Hanzo’s sudden interest, but kept his gaze averted in embarrassment as he massaged the scarred stump gently to coax some feeling back into the limb.  
He froze as Hanzo got up and stood next to him, staring at the wound. He hunched over, trying not to let his feeling of vulnerability show. To his surprise, Hanzo cleared the bed of McCree’s clutter and sat, gesturing to him to join him. Jesse flinched as one of Hanzo’s cold hands slipped under his, and very carefully massaged for him, the other hand joining in.  
“Ahh,” Jesse mumbled, leaning back and flushing. It felt extremely intimate, and he gazed at Hanzo from under his eyelashes. He was blushing too, pale cheeks tinged pink. 

_He’s beautiful_ , McCree realised, _he’s the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on._ His stomach grew warm. _Am I crushing on him? I certainly admire him._   
Hanzo had moved onto his shoulders, rubbing circles to ease the cramped muscles.   
_He would never feel the same way_ , McCree mourned, _and I value his friendship and trust more than a stupid crush._ The day had been long and eventful, and he pushed the thought to the back of his mind, pegging it as being down to his prior loneliness. From the sounds of things, they had both been lonely.  
McCree yelped as Hanzo moved down, kneading the knotted muscle in the small of his back.  
“Too much?” Hanzo chuckled, and Jesse knew then that he'd do whatever it took to make Hanzo laugh as much as possible.  
“No no no,” he retorted quickly, “you just surprised me. You're very good at this…”  
Hanzo hummed, pleased, and continued for a while.

 

McCree silently mourned the absence of Hanzo's hands on his back when he finally stopped massaging, until he suddenly heard the click and hiss of a seal releasing.  
Hanzo was quietly taking off one prosthetic, eyes averted.  
“Oh. _Oh._ ” McCree drew in a shocked breath before he could stop himself.   
They weren’t full prosthetics as he’d initially assumed. They were more like metal casings. But the legs underneath were unnaturally thin, mangled, covered in white scars from long, deep lacerations.  
McCree moved forward and knelt in front of Hanzo, gently taking the prosthetic casings from him, and laying them down on the floor. Hanzo finally met his eyes as McCree very carefully rolled up his now loose trouser leg over his thigh, and took one leg in his large, warm hand, rubbing the skin very carefully.  
“Jesse,” he mumbled, “I trust you.”  
That meant more to McCree than he would ever admit.  


Hanzo felt his cheeks burn as Jesse massaged his thighs and calves, his hands warm to the skin. He had never let anyone touch him since his legs had been mangled, and certainly not near his delicate sparrow leg prosthetics. But this felt incredibly nice, and, to his utter surprise, he felt completely safe.  
Jesse exuded warmth and comfort like a lamp. He was soft, and welcoming, and Hanzo gently ran one hand through his scruffy hair, combing out the knots with his fingers. Jesse hummed quietly in contentment.  
“Do you want to come out onto the balcony?” Jesse asked quietly, “it's okay if you don't, but the weather is mild, and I always smoke before bed. Bad habit, I know.”  
“I know,” Hanzo admitted, “I watch our balcony sometimes. You smoke an awful lot.”    
“Huh,” McCree laughed softly, “I’ll only have one tonight, promise.”   
Hanzo wrapped one arm around Jesse’s shoulders, letting him support him, “I'll come out.”

McCree went to set him down on a chair, but Hanzo refused to let go, clinging like a limpet to him. Jesse settled instead for sitting himself, arranging Hanzo carefully on his lap (he willed himself to keep control of his thoughts) and Hanzo lit his cigar for him.  
They both gazed out over the grounds inside the compound. Some rooms had lights still on, while others were dark, but it was silent, save for the cool breeze rustling the leaves of the trees.  
Hanzo had one hand on McCree’s bare chest, leeching off his heat, fingertips playing with the dark curls of hair.    
Jesse reluctantly stubbed out his cigar, and sighed, smoke curling from his lips into the sky to be tattered by the wind. It was growing cold, and Hanzo’s breathing was deep and even. McCree nudged him gently.   
“Come on sweetheart, bedtime.”   
Hanzo nodded, and McCree picked him up again, exceedingly careful of his legs, and set him down on his bed, going to the bathroom so Hanzo would have the privacy to get changed to sleep. They both settled down, and McCree extinguished the light, rolling onto his side to gaze at Hanzo’s silhouette across the room. His last thought before he drifted off was of the warm weight Hanzo had been in his lap. 

~

They spent the next few days alternating between the shooting range and the gym, never out of the other’s company. It was a shocking change to their distance in the beginning.   
“Alright, easy there,” McCree said, chucking a towel at Hanzo’s face when he emerged from under the weights.   
Hanzo snatched it from the air deftly before it could slap him, and mopped his brow and shoulders, “your turn, cowboy.”   
McCree tossed his hat to rest by their water bottles, and lay down on the bench, sliding under the bar. Hanzo leaned against the near wall, gulping down a quick drink before watching Jesse attentively. His muscles gleamed with sweat and his shoulders trembled as he pressed the weights, huffing every time he pushed them back up. Hanzo was amused by how much Jesse was concentrating on his shoulder and arm strength, not that Jesse would ever admit why   
“Does Gabriel have a boyfriend?” he asked suddenly. McCree yelped as he almost dropped the weights in surprise, and Hanzo rushed to his side, steadying him.    
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Hanzo apologised, and slapped McCree with the towel as he slid back out from under the weights.   
“That was certainly a bombshell to drop on me,” Jesse grabbed the towel and flicked it at Hanzo good naturedly, “why d’ya ask? Wanna get in his pants?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, a wolfish grin spreading across his face,   
“Excuse me,” Hanzo grumbled, but he’d learnt to take Jesse’s lewd comments light heartedly, “not at all. Besides, someone’s already in them.”   
“Are you sure?” Jesse raised an eyebrow, “you get rejected sweetheart?”   
Hanzo ignored him, “when I visited him to ask about your hat, a voice called from his bedroom and told him to ‘come back to bed’.”   
“Did you see who it was?” Jesse was excited now, grin turning mischievous.   
“Sadly not, but he was definitely male.”   
“No surprises there, Gabe  _ is _ gay.”   
“How do you know that?”   
“He raised me darlin’. I couldn’t  _ not _ know.”   
“Okay, then do  _ you _ have any ideas who it could have been?”   
McCree hummed, twisting the towel between his hands, and checked that they were alone, “I haven’t noticed that he’s close to anyone in particular at this base. But he was always sweet on Morrison. Jack Morrison, strike commander of Overwatch.”   
Hanzo recalled the image of the golden haired, impressively fit soldier he had seen on the news several times, “really?” He couldn’t see the match.   
“They’ve been best friends since before the whole Overwatch shebang happened,” McCree said, “Jack’s alright, bit up-himself sometimes, but a good man. Always wondered whether they had somethin’ going on.” He made a lewd gesture with his fingers and Hanzo frowned at him, “they were probably fucking all those times we ran missions together. Gross. Bet Gabe wasn’t happy you found this out, eh?”   
“He was a little upset. I did, however, take him breakfast, and I think that pleased him.”   
McCree laughed, and returned to the weights, shaking his head in amusement, “c’mon, let’s finish up here. We can gossip over food.”

When they finally quitted the gym, they were both shining with sweat, dishevelled and exhausted. Most of Hanzo’s hair had escaped the ribbon he tied it back with and was plastered to his face and neck. McCree’s hair looked like a bird was nesting in it, and Hanzo snorted as he watched him try to comb it flat with his fingers.   
“What?” Jesse grumbled, “I’ll wash it when we get back. Then I’ll borrow your comb, and clean it afterwards like I promised.”   
They both recalled the morning Hanzo had stormed out of the bathroom and thrown his comb at Jesse, who was still curled up in bed. Jesse had yelled in surprise, abruptly awoken, and had cracked his mechanical elbow against the wall, leaving a dent. Hanzo had then fumed angrily for five minutes at McCree because he’d borrowed the comb and left clumps of his brown hair in the tines. Jesse had finally appeased him by cleaning the comb and apologising with some of the american sweets Hanzo had bought him previously.    


As they rounded the corner, they were stopped in their tracks by the sight of three men blocking the corridor in front of them. Jesse froze, hand snapping to his side, where Peacekeeper would normally be holstered. But neither of them had their weapons on them due to strict no carry rules around the base, likely to prevent run-ins from happening. But it hadn’t stopped Blackwatch members tearing each other apart with their bare hands, and Jesse had helped Gabriel clean up after some of the worst of the incidents.   
“Excuse us,” Hanzo said, politely but firmly, stepping forward.   
The tension was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.   
Hanzo was ignored; he wasn't used to being ignored. The lead man - tall, heavyset, with shoulders made for barging down doors and ugly scars over one half of his face - sneered at Jesse, paying no heed to the rage building inside Hanzo.   
“Jesse McCree has found himself a new boy toy, it seems.”   
Jesse flinched, and avoided Hanzo’s sharp glance, ashamed, “‘s not like that. Fuck off, Gabriel has already told you to stuff your bigotry where the sun don’t shine.”   
“Scum, the lot of ya. Reyes can fuck himself, McCree, and you too, I bet you’d like that-”   
“Jesse, what’s happening?” Hanzo asked urgently, under his breath. Jesse shook his head silently, still avoiding his eyes. Hanzo grabbed his forearm urgently, but Jesse shook him off.   
“No wonder Reyes picked you up. You’re an easy lay. F*ggots, all of ya, disgusting-”   
Hanzo’s vision blurred and he could hear the pounding of his heart loud in his ears.

_ “F*aggot,” his father screamed, Genji cowering on the floor with his arms above his head, protecting his face, “you bring dishonour upon this family, Genji; you do not deserve to bear the Shimada name. You are scum, and you are no son of mine.”  _ _   
_ _ His father spat at Genji, and stormed out. Hanzo had rushed to Genji’s side, stroking his green hair back from his face, holding his sobbing brother tight. _

A snarl tore free of his throat as he lunged, using his momentum to kick off the wall, taking the man down in one violent motion. He landed, and sprung, faster than the eye could see, a spinning kick flooring one of the others and a swift jab to the throat of the last leaving them in a pile on the ground.   
Hanzo gasped, sweat dripping from his brow, sucking in sharp breaths. His heart wouldn’t slow, and he stared around like a cornered wild animal.   
Jesse ran forward, and grabbed his hands, dwarfing them in his, “Hanzo? Hanzo? C’mon, we gotta go.”    
He pushed Hanzo down the hall, away from the scene, guiding the shaking shorter man with his own trembling arms. He locked their bedroom door behind them, and took Hanzo’s face in nervous hands.   
“Sweetheart, look at me,” he murmured, “it’s okay, they’re gone, we’re safe.”

It took several, long anxious minutes of Jesse’s reassurance, stroking Hanzo’s cheeks and hair, to calm him.   
“I’m sorry,” Hanzo finally murmured, voice shaky, “I’m sorry, I snapped, I didn’t mean to-”   
“It’s okay, it’s okay. You certainly saved us from getting hurt back there.”   
Hanzo sat on McCree’s bed, and McCree crouched in front of him, taking his hands again, “do you want to talk about it?”   
“It was just a bad memory,” Hanzo whispered, and paused before finally saying in a tortured voice, “Jesse, I’m gay. I’ve never told anyone. My brother- Genji - he died because he was bisexual. And it was my fault, all my fault-”   
Hanzo sobbed uncontrollably, tears running down his face and into his lap.   
Jesse was panicking slightly as he tried his hardest to soothe Hanzo, wiping the tears away with the soft fabric of his serape. Hanzo clenched his jaw and breathed through his nose, trying to regain his composure in front of Jesse.   
“You know I’m gay too, right?” McCree said quietly, “it’s not a bad thing, sweetheart. Gabriel is, I am, it doesn’t make us any worse than anyone else. I don’t know much of what happened with your brother, but I’m sorry, and if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you okay? We gotta stick up for each other.”   
Hanzo nodded, eyes puffy, and whispered, “thank you. You’re too kind to me.”   
“Not too kind, sweetheart. You deserve to be happy.”   
Hanzo silently disagreed, but nodded anyway.

Jesse rubbed his eyes, fretting. Hanzo was in the shower. Neither of them felt like emerging from the room to eat, not now. He had dropped Gabriel a short, terse text.

_ Papá, _ __   
_ Those motherfuckers you gave a talking to haven’t laid off. Hanzo in bad state. Help. _ __   
  


_ Jess, _ _   
_ _ Stay in your room for now. Hungry, chico? I’ll bring you and Hanzo dinner. What do you want? _

 

_ Thanks papá. Anything for me, something noodle for Hanzo.<I love you dad> _

 

_ <I love you too son.> See you soon. _

Hanzo finally emerged from the bathroom, towelling his hair dry. He was wearing a pair of old sweatpants, low on his hips, and-   
“My shirt looks good on you sweetheart,” Jesse smiled. He had rolled up the sleeves and half tucked it into his sweatpants to try and make it fit better. Hanzo rolled his eyes at McCree half-heartedly.   
McCree watched him, concerned, “Gabe is going to bring us dinner shortly. You okay with that?”   
Hanzo nodded quietly, and sat with Jesse. Quickly, surprising him, he took the cowboy’s human hand, and brushed his lips against it, blushing to the roots of his hair.    
The knock on the door saved Hanzo from further embarrassment as McCree sat, dumbstruck.

Gabriel was carrying a tray laden with dinner food, and both Jesse and Hanzo’s stomachs rumbled as the smell filled the room.    
“You both okay?” Gabriel sounded concerned, and he set the tray down on their desk, McCree snatching up the bowl of chilli and tucking in immediately.    
Hanzo was more polite, but still started eating with gusto, “we are okay now, thank you for your kindness.”   
“I heard about the egos you bruised on the way up here.” Hanzo flinched, expecting Gabriel to be mad, but he just laughed, patting Hanzo on the shoulder, “nice one, niño.”   
McCree smiled, “Hanzo handles himself very well. Knocked them out without breaking a sweat.”  
Gabriel made for the door again, grinning, “I’ll leave you two in peace to eat. I have a cabrón or three to discipline. My job _ never _ fails to excite. Jesse, a word outside quickly.”   
Jesse looked regretfully at the half eaten bowl of food in his hands, but acquiesced, following Gabriel out into the empty corridor.

“I assume it was the same reason as last time.”   
Jesse nodded, and sighed heavily, “wasn’t Hanzo’s fault. They assumed we were fucking or something and cornered us to tell us how disgusting we were. Hanzo had some shit in his past; I think a memory triggered something and he lashed out.”   
Gabriel sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, “it’s okay, I don’t blame either of you. You’re good kids. I just need to work out what to do now. Might give Morrison a call.”   
“Ask him to stay the night,” Jesse suggested mischievously.   
“Hey, nosey little cabrón! Get outta it,” Gabriel grumbled, “I brought you dinner and I get accusations? The cheek of it…”   
“Sorry, papá,” Jesse grinned, “but hones’ly, thanks for your help. I’m sorry to bring this upon you again.”   
“Not your fault,” Gabriel hesitated, then pulled him into a rough hug, stroking his hair. Jesse buried his face into Reyes’ shoulder and squeezed tight, grateful for the comfort. They broke apart after a minute, and Gabriel stepped back, “I’m sorry I have to leave so soon but you know how it is… Stay safe, okay.” He took off down the corridor, glancing backwards, and held his phone up in the air   
Jesse knew the drill.  _ Text me if you need to.  
_ He saluted, and returned to Hanzo. Once they had both eaten, they piled their dishes up to one side, and retreated to the balcony to sit in companionable silence before turning in early. 


	7. Trust and truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Painful memories are brought up

McCree woke, eyes wide open in the pitch blackness. He strained to see by the meager light filtering through the blinds. Something was... Wrong. He was a light sleeper, but not a needless waker, and the unnatural silence weighed down on him like a horse blanket. It took him a moment to realise he could not hear the slow, even breaths of an asleep Hanzo. Rolling over carefully, trying not to make a sound, he froze as he heard a hiccuping sob, muffled by a pillow or duvet. His heart turned to ice.  
"Hanzo?" Jesse whispered, voice still seeming too loud and violent in the quiet. There was a quiet rustle coming from his side of the room, then silence once more.  
McCree had a moment of crisis. He knew Hanzo would dislike the damage to his pride if he tried to help, but damn him if he was going to let his friend suffer without doing anything. Better Hanzo hate him than he hate himself for leaving him to get worse without intervention.  
"Hanzo, sweetheart, I know you probably don't want my help but I'm worried darlin', please-" His little speech was interrupted by a soft whine, and he lept out of bed, ignoring his half dressed state to kneel down besides Hanzo's bed. He reached out a tentative hand, pulling the blankets down from where they were pulled up over his head, and Hanzo curled up into even more of a ball, burying his face so Jesse couldn't see his shame.  
"Baby, this isn't dishonourable to you, or anythin' else you might think it is, I just want to help if at all I can."  
Hanzo hiccuped, but didn't stop Jesse when he brushed his hair out of his face, combing the wet strands back gently and wiping the tears from his cheeks for the second time in a day. He very carefully and slowly propped Hanzo up into a sitting position, letting the smaller man lean against him for support, their warm, bare chests pressed together. Hanzo very weakly hit a balled fist against McCree's chest.

"Stupid, kind cowboy," he sobbed, and collapsed into Jesse's arms, tears spilling hot on his skin. McCree internally winced as his hands dug into his back hard enough for his sharp nails to draw blood, but didn't withdraw; he instead rubbed small circles into Hanzo's shoulders, massaging his back and down his arms, paying particular attention to the beautiful dragon tattoo. Hanzo rarely let him anywhere near this close, often shying away from intimate contact. It was touching, and McCree focused as well as he could on comforting Hanzo, but caught his mind wandering. He smelt good, of something fresh like pine needles, and he caught a deep breath of floral cherry blossom as he buried his nose into Hanzo's hair.

It took a sweet eternity for Hanzo to finally calm enough that his breaths had become even again, and McCree went to, somewhat unwillingly, withdraw from the hug, not wanting to outstay his welcome and offend him. But Hanzo's hands dug in again, and he buried his face in Jesse's hairy, warm chest, sighing softly.  
"Don't leave me."  
Jesse's breath caught, and he promised he wouldn't.

The light through the shutters was slowly but surely becoming a warmer yellow, and McCree opened his eyes blearily when he heard the first chirpy morning call of a magpie outside their window. He had briefly fallen into a light doze, still upright, with Hanzo sleeping deeply but peacefully, pressed against him.  
His back hurt like hellfire.  
He sat for a moment, mulling over what to do. He needed to stretch out and sleep desperately. But he couldn't wake Hanzo; he worried he risked either bringing back the depression of the night, or bringing his rage down upon him.  
"God help me," McCree muttered, carefully maneuvering himself to lift Hanzo up like a small child. He didn't stir, and Jesse let out a shaky, anxious breath. He tiptoed with as much grace as he could manage to his bed, and rolled Hanzo out of his arms and into his soft jersey duvet cover.

Still muddled with sleep, Hanzo gathered McCree's duvet up in his arms and nestled down, pressing his nose into the pillow.  
"Ashtray," he murmured, voice slurred, and his breathing slowed again, a small snore announcing his return to sleep.  
Jesse forced himself to stop staring at the sleeping dragon who had created a nest in his bed, and berated himself quietly for the affection warming his chest. He stretched, grunting as his joints cracked, and scratched at the nape of his neck. He only briefly considered bunking down on the floor. No hecking way. He didn't want to wake up feeling anymore like a wooden plank than he did already.

That left Hanzo's bed.

"He's gonna murder me, slowly and painfully..." he muttered, but decided it was worth it if he could catch a few comfortable zees. Glancing over to the clock on the darkened computer display, he groaned, and positively collapsed onto Hanzo's mattress. Six am.

He thanked whatever Gods watched over him that he didn’t have to wake up early the following morning.

His last thought was of how good Hanzo's pillow smelled.

~

Hanzo rolled over in his sleep and yelped, awoken abruptly as he cracked his prosthetic knee against the wall.

_ Since when has the wall been on that side _ , he complained to himself, and it took a slow thirty seconds to realise that he was not in his own bed. The duvet was too heavy and soft. It smelled of cigar ash, leather and the pillow held the faint aroma of citrus shampoo. It was surprisingly comforting, and he allowed himself another deep breath as he wriggled down under the duvet again to hide himself from the glare of the sun on his face.  
"Sleep has addled my brain," he muttered after a few minutes, pulling back the covers. It was well past daybreak, well past the time he normally awoke, and he was in McCree's bed.

_ He was in McCree's bed. _

Hanzo jumped up as if electrified, and took in his surroundings quickly, finally wide awake.

He had been sleeping in McCree's bed.

His own bed was made, but not in the same neat, regimented way he did it. Walking over, he straightened the pillow absentmindedly, and caught an unmistakable whiff of ash and citrus.

McCree had been sleeping in his bed.

His first thoughts were angry: McCree had no right to sleep in his bed! Stupid cowboy! How had he allowed this to happen? Had he been drinking? But he was not fighting a pulsing hangover headache as he usually did when he let himself go and indulged in too much sake.

Hanzo sat down slowly, and closed his eyes, clearing the clutter from his mind. The meditative trance was not perfect, but the memories came back nevertheless.

Nightmares, the same as he usually had.    
__ Genji's mangled body and the taste of iron in the back of his throat. He was kneeling in a slowly spreading puddle of his brother's blood, and it seeped into his clothes; his own blood poured from his mangled legs, he couldn’t feel any sensation apart from searing agony; hot tears ran down his cheeks but for all his regret and pain he couldn't escape the smell and the taste of the blood in the air, it was overwhelming-  
And then suddenly the warmth of another body against his own. The smell of ash and citrus cut through the nightmare, chasing it away. The tears were wiped from his cheeks and his hair combed through by calloused fingers that weren't his own, and he let himself sob the vestiges of the nightmare away.  
Hanzo opened his eyes, and took a deep, shuddering breath. He deeply regretted his earlier internal anger at the cowboy. No matter how callous, how crass and joking he could be, and no matter how badly Hanzo had wanted to snuff the life out of him in the past, Jesse had  __ helped him.

_ Where is he? _ Hanzo did not want to face him like this. The room was deserted, but he realised that the sound of the shower had been a background hum to his thoughts. He listened carefully, and heard the quiet but unmistakable sounds of McCree singing awful country songs as he bathed.  
While little time had passed since he woke, Hanzo rushed to dress and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He would shower later. He just had to leave, now, before McCree caught him.

_ Jesse _ , he wrote, and paused, pen hovering.  
Switching to kanji, he wrote _ thank you _ , and paused again. That would be easy enough for Jesse to look up online.  
He continued in kanji, writing vertically now: _ I am sorry that I cannot face you now. My honour denies it. But if you wish to see me today, meet me on the highest roof. I will have food and tea for both of us.  
_ He signed it with Hanzo in english, and scrambled to make McCree's bed neatly as he heard the shower cut off. Leaving the note on the bed, he dashed out of the room, just as he heard the door of their ensuite open.

~

McCree tossed his towel over the bathroom door, whistling happily, “Morning, sweetheart- oh. Hanzo?”   
No reply.   
Jesse sighed quietly, his cheer replaced by a hollow feeling in his chest. It felt like a punch in the gut to suddenly be alone again, after spending the last few days constantly in Hanzo’s company. He’d grown used to their quiet companionship.   
But now, Hanzo had run from him again. McCree bit his lip, and sat on his bed, leaping up again when he heard the crumpling of paper underneath him.   
Distracted by his thoughts, he had not noticed the note left on his duvet. He smoothed the paper out and stared at it.   
Aside from his name heading it, and Hanzo’s signing it off, it was written entirely in kanji.   
“Bastard,” McCree muttered, “hones’ly. What am I meant to do with this?” He took out his phone, and casually searched  _ “common phrases in kanji.” _

After half an hour of searching, he’d only managed to translate the first line. It simply said  _ “thank you.” _ __   
Jesse grumbled as he cracked his neck, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. Sitting crouched over his phone with awful posture had done no good to his back. He ran through a mental list of people he was somewhat friendly with at Blackwatch. It was depressingly short. Gabriel had taught him Spanish, but he very much doubted that he knew any Japanese. Hanzo had been the first native he’d met.   
“Alana,” he said suddenly, mind flashing back to when Hanzo and her had chatted in Japanese. 

He barrelled out the door, running down the corridors, holding onto his hat as he skidded round corners.   
“Alana!” he yelled, banging on her door, “Alana! You in?”  
As soon as the door opened he rushed inside, almost knocking her over in his haste.    
“Slow down cowboy!” She yelled at him, swatting his head with a bundle of rolled up papers, “what on earth is wrong with you this afternoon, eh?”   
“Sorry, sorry,” Jesse gasped, pausing to catch his breath, “can you read kanji?”   
“What kinda question is that? Is this about your new boyfriend?”   
“He’s not my boyfriend, Alana,” McCree huffed impatiently, “can you or can’t you?”   
“Yes love, what am I translating?”   
McCree paused, suddenly hesitant. He had no idea what Hanzo had written. It could be incriminating in some way or another. But Hanzo  _ knew _ he didn’t understand a word of Japanese. Had he expected Jesse to be able to translate it on his own?   
“Alana, you have to promise me now, if anything in this letter could potentially hurt Hanzo or I in the wrong hands, you keep it secret, okay? Please. I don’t want to betray his trust. He’s my best friend.”   
Alana nodded impatiently, “of course, I’m no snitch McCree. Hand it over.”   
She studied the letter for a few minutes, and enigmatic smile spreading across her face, and then grabbed a spare piece of paper from the floor to scribble down a translation.   
“Nothin’ bad, cowboy,” she smiled, and McCree let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “You know how to get on the roof?”   
“Huh?” Jesse grabbed the paper, and read it quickly, “oh shit I should get going. How  _ do _ you get on the roof?”   
“Hang on a mo’,” Alana rummaged through the stacks of paper strewn everywhere and finally spread out a floor plan of the Blackwatch facility, “there’s access hatches in the ceilings here and here. I’d recommend using this one, and you’ll have a clear path up to the high roof using the walkways and ladders.”   
Jesse nodded, and grabbed Alana, giving her a quick, fierce hug, “thank you so much. I owe you a drink, okay? I gotta go.”   
Alana watched him run out, amused.    
“He’s got the hots for that guy, that’s for sure,” she laughed to herself, and returned to her work. 

~

The wind was strong up on the roof. McCree held onto his hat tightly as he made his way along the maintenance walkway, feeling uncomfortable at the height. He wasn’t the most acrobatically inclined person, and the height coupled with the lack of handrails made him seriously worry about his balance.   
“Jesse,” he heard Hanzo’s voice call from above him.   
“Comin’ darlin’,” McCree called back, and carefully made his way up the ladder to his right. His breath caught at the sight of Hanzo, silhouetted against storm-grey clouds, hair ribbon flying in the wind.    
“Hey,” Jesse said gently, approaching Hanzo, “you okay darlin’? I worry about you.”   
Hanzo patted the ground next to him and smiled sadly, “Sit. I have a lot I want to tell you.”   
Jesse sat, and Hanzo took out a flask of tea from the bag next to him, handing it to McCree, who accepted it graciously.   
“I don’t have any cups, I apologise,” Hanzo murmured   
“It’s alright sweetheart,” Jesse said, and took a sip from the flask, “if you don’t mind sharing with me.” He’d never had green tea before. It had a mild taste, and he was grateful for the warmth.    
“Jesse, I… What I’m going to tell you will probably affect our relationship in a major way,” Hanzo said, voice shaking, “I don’t blame you if you hate me for it and don’t want to remain my friend or my partner. Gabriel will understand if you tell him you want to have someone else. I just ask that you please hear me out until I’m finished so you can judge me based on the full story.”   
“Hanzo-”   
“I’m sorry Jesse, please just listen while I still have the nerve.”   
McCree nodded, mind racing. He felt sick to his stomach with worry.   


“I’ve told you a few things about my brother. Genji, he… I told you he died. I told you he died because of who he was, but that’s only a small part of a big story.    
I grew up in a very strict household. My father… my father was extremely dominating. We lost our mother when we were both young. Genji and I were both heirs to a huge empire, a criminal organisation that spanned the globe. You might have already made the connection between me and the Shimada clan.    
I was the first born, and I had a huge amount of pressure on me as it was expected of me to be the successor to my father. Genji, on the other hand, had more freedom, and he frequently exercised his ability to sneak out and enjoy Hanamura at night. I was torn, between my love for my brother, and my loyalty to my father. I started covering for his increasingly risky escapades, because I did not want him to get in trouble - the discipline from our father was harsh. I protected him to the best of my ability because he was my little brother…    
I once accompanied him to a nightclub, after his incessant pleading for me to have some fun. I did not expect it to be a queer nightclub, and I did not expect Genji to be flirting outrageously with the men there.   
It was incredibly uncomfortable. It was Genji’s own weird way of coming out to me, I realised. And suddenly, it became the catalyst for the realisation that I was not straight. Now I was keeping two secrets from my father: Genji’s sexuality, and my own.   
This went against all the values of the clan. Genji and I were expected to sire children of our own, to continue the bloodline. My father was starting to find suitors for me; I showed nothing but disinterest to try and stall that eventuality.    
Genji was becoming increasingly wild. Our household environment was stifling, and he couldn’t bear it... Our father caught him on several occasions, but Genji didn’t care. He didn’t care about the clan, he just wanted to live his life. Our father grew angry, and violent, towards both of us. He blamed me for Genji’s behaviour.   
Then Genji was caught by one of our guards leaving a gay nightclub, accompanied by another man. Our father… He had never seen such dishonour, and from his own son…   
The clan elders made the final decision. It was to be settled by tradition. Genji and I were to fight to the death.   
I killed my brother, Jesse. I killed him, and every day I wish I could die, to be rid of the guilt that eats me alive.”

Tears were streaming silently down Hanzo’s cheeks as he turned away, refusing to look at McCree.    
Jesse was frozen, mind replaying what Hanzo had said over and over.   
_ I killed my brother. _   
“Hanzo, I... “ Jesse wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t hate Hanzo, he couldn’t find it in himself. Especially considering his own past   
“You can leave if you want.”   
“No.” McCree was resolute, “Hanzo, we all regret what we have done in the past. You’re not the only one who’s done bad things… I spent years running with the gang that killed my family. It’s difficult, to learn to forgive yourself… Gabriel saved me from a prison sentence that would have ended my life. I don’t know what he saw in me, but he took me in as one of his own, and loved me unconditionally, despite the misgivings from the rest of Overwatch. And I came with him here, to Blackwatch. I owe him my life. And after all this time, I have learnt to cope with the guilt, because now I’m working to make up for the bad I did. So are you.”   
Hanzo was quiet for a long moment, but then said in a hoarse voice, “what did I do, for the goodness that is you to come into my life.”   
McCree hummed quietly, grabbing Hanzo’s hand in his, “redemption presents itself to us in weird ways.”   
  
They sat on the roof until the sun set, passing flasks of tea back and forth, then eating cold teriyaki chicken and rice.    
Hanzo produced a small freezer container from his bag, and unscrewed the lid, peering inside.   
“Oh good, they haven’t melted,” he said, and stuck a pair of chopsticks inside to retrieve… some kind of ball shaped food? Jesse looked at him questioningly. There were two green balls, two white balls, and two brown.   
“These are called mochi,” Hanzo explained, holding up a green one, “ice cream, covered in a pounded rice layer that makes it easy to eat in your fingers.” He bit into the ball and held up the remaining half, showing Jesse the ice cream hidden inside.   
Jesse took a brown one - chocolate, Hanzo said it was - and bit into it doubtfully. The rice was slightly chewy, but didn’t taste bad at all, and it paired surprisingly well with the ice cream inside.   
“These are really good,” Jesse said appreciatively, squeezing Hanzo’s free hand, “thank you.”   
Hanzo smiled slightly, a small blush in his cheeks, and took a white mochi, “you’re welcome. This one is coconut, by the way.”   
They finished the mochi quickly, and McCree lay back, stomach full.    
“I haven’t had mochi since Genji died,” Hanzo said quietly, “it’s always brought back bad memories. But I’m glad I can share this with you.”   
Jesse hummed quietly, the tune to a melancholic song Hanzo had heard him sing in the shower, and pulled Hanzo down to lay beside him. His singing voice was rough, but tuneful, and Hanzo moved close to him, laying his head on Jesse’s serape to hear his voice reverberate through his chest. Jesse very gently pulled the ribbon from Hanzo’s ponytail, and carded his fingers through his silky hair.   
It got very dark and cold quickly. When Hanzo started shivering violently, goosebumps racing over his exposed skin, Jesse bundled him up in his serape, and they headed back inside. 


	8. Discipline

The events of the past few days weighed heavily upon both of their minds as they spent their next day training. 

Hanzo had woken at the crack of dawn as per his usual custom, throwing his pillow at Jesse to wake him up before retreating to the shower. Jesse grumbled, and, half asleep, followed Hanzo into the bathroom without thinking. Hanzo had forgotten to lock the door, and was disrobing as Jesse barged in ungraciously.   
They both yelled in surprise, Jesse rooted to the spot staring in shock while Hanzo grabbed his towel to cover up.   
“Stop staring at me!” Hanzo snapped, blushing bright red, “why did you come in, you knew I was about to shower!”   
“‘M sorry,” Jesse mumbled, still staring, and then blurted out, “how are you even real, you’re too pretty-”   
Hanzo, spluttering with embarrassment and surprise, shoved McCree back out of the bathroom before he could finish his sentence and locked the door.

Jesse stood back, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. He was now incredibly wide awake.    
“What a start to the day,” he remarked to the empty room, and waited for Hanzo to finish up.   
  


As soon as Hanzo emerged, Jesse started apologising profusely, and Hanzo tutted at him but couldn’t restrain a smile.   
“You think I’m pretty?” He teased, brushing his damp hair.   
Jesse paused mid-apology, and frowned at Hanzo, cheeks reddening, “if you really want to know, you are the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes upon.” He said it in a light-hearted, joking manner, but couldn’t deny the truth behind his words.   
It was Hanzo’s turn to blush again.

~

“What we up to today pardner?” Jesse mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.  
“Manners,” chided Hanzo, “more training. Hopefully your friend has my supplies, or I will run out of arrows very soon.”  
McCree nodded, mindful to swallow before he commented this time, “she said she'd have them today, so she’ll have them today. I'll drop her a message.”  
He fumbled his phone out of his pocket. 2 messages from Gabriel.

 

_ Disciplining your problems today. _

 

_ Drop by if you want to get your hands dirty, chico. _

 

Hanzo touched his hand lightly, “what's wrong?”  
Jesse hadn't realised he’d been frowning slightly, and that his hands were trembling. He met Hanzo's gaze with a troubled smile.  
“Nothin’, darling.”  
Hanzo quietly tsked, but didn't pursue the matter, picking at his bowl of food.  
Quickly, McCree sent Gabriel a reply.

_Sorry papa, promised Hanzo I'd train all day and help him fletch arrows or some shit._

It was only a half-truth. He glanced up at Hanzo briefly. So far his time at Blackwatch had been confined to the base, shielded from almost everyone else, and he had only seen Gabriel's patient, altruistic side. He didn't want to show Hanzo that the man he loved as a father could be cruel, violent; a sadistic shadow of the man he once was. He had been shoved to the side, running what was essentially a criminal gang covered up by the glossy label of Overwatch. He had no doubts that what Hanzo had done in the past was just as messy. Hell, he’d killed his own brother. He'd been the heir to a global criminal organisation. Somehow he’d lost both legs and come out of the ordeal stronger than before.

Jesse realised then, guiltily, that he didn't want Hanzo to see his bad side. To Hanzo, he was a foolish, harmless cowboy who just so happened to be a dead eye. He'd skirted around details of what he'd done in Deadlock, ashamed. And he hadn't told Hanzo that he and Gabriel had tortured and killed countless people for Blackwatch, going against their own morals and slowly becoming more entrenched in the mess it had all become. He remembered Overwatch, how noble it had once been. How none of the heroes there realised what was going on behind closed curtains. 

Gabriel hadn't wanted this job. 

Neither had McCree.

But he'd gone with his father-figure, owing him a debt that he could not hope to repay. And so they rotted.

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo said gently, “you've been staring off into nowhere for five solid minutes.”  
McCree started, jerking and knocking over his cup of coffee.  
“Ah shit, shit,” he cursed, grabbing a napkin and hastily mopping up the spill. Hanzo had swiftly leapt back onto the table behind them to save his kyudo-gi from stains and was now eyeing McCree like a hawk, frowning darkly.  
“You are clumsy,” he muttered.  
“‘M sorry,” McCree held up his hands in defeat, “dunno what's gotten into me.”  
“Mmm,” Hanzo hummed, and warily sat back down.

 

“Jesse,” Hanzo said sharply, waving a hand in front of Jesse’s face. The shooting range was empty aside from them, and they’d been taking it in turns to take shots at the targets. McCree’s focus had been slipping, and while his shots were still perfect, his attention was elsewhere, and he didn’t realise he’d been standing silent, his gun half raised, staring at nothing for the past minute.  
“I’m sorry,” he sighed, for the millionth time that day.   
Frowning deeply, Hanzo pulled him round so that they were face to face, the tips of their noses bumping together as Hanzo frowned at him, shaking him by the shoulders.  
“Jesse,” he repeated, “you do not have to tell me what is wrong. But please, if you need to take a break, or go see Gabriel, or do something, then do so. We cannot train when you are so unfocused. I will go to your friend and get my arrow supplies and make those while you sort yourself out.”  
McCree blinked, surprised at how tactile Hanzo had been.  
“Thank you” he said, and pulled Hanzo into a tight hug. Hanzo huffed quietly against his shoulder, and pushed him away gently after a minute.  
“Go on,” he said, pressing Peacekeeper into his holster and pushing him towards the door, “I will see you in our room later, yes?”  
McCree nodded, gaze lingering on Hanzo as he hung his bow over his back, collecting the few arrows he had left before turning to go, and Jesse offered him a small, unsure smile, holding his hat against his chest. Hanzo smiled back, patted Jesse’s shoulder, and disappeared down the corridor.

Jesse sighed, pulling out his phone, and tapped out a quick message to Gabriel.

_ You around still? I’m on my way. _

 

Gabriel had his feet up on his desk in the office next to the detention and interrogation rooms, a fresh cup of coffee steaming next to the pile of papers he was rifling through.   
He looked up, swinging his legs off the desk and getting up with a groan to embrace Jesse as he walked through the door.

“Hey,” Jesse mumbled, tossing his hat on his desk.   
Reyes instantly frowned, holding Jesse at arm’s length and searching his face, “what’s wrong?”   
Jesse sighed, and shrugged, scratching at the nape of his neck. He finally met Gabriel’s eyes, “do you think we’re doing the right thing?”   
Gabriel blinked, “disciplining your bullies?”   
“Not really that,” McCree said, gesturing around the office, “all of this. Blackwatch. All the shit we do here. It’s kinda fucked up, don’t you think?”   
“We don’t have a choice anymore.” Gabriel sounded resigned, “you know I hate this. Keeping it under wraps, under the carpet, getting the dirty jobs that are too messy for Overwatch to handle. You’re the only person I can trust here Jesse, aside from myself.”   
Jesse nodded, “Have you talked to Jack about it?”   
“You know he’d go nuts if he found out.”   
“Yeah, guess so.”   
  


They sat in companionable silence for half an hour, Gabriel drinking his coffee and filling out forms, Jesse going through and organising the stacks of paper on his desk out of boredom after spending ten minutes reading the news on his phone. It had been depressing, as usual.

A knock at the door disrupted their reverie, the situation at hand an unpleasant kick back into reality.   
They both sat on one side of the table in the interrogation room, facing off against the three men on the other side.   
Gabriel read off a sheet of paper, tired voice echoing around the room, “unacceptable homophobic language, threatening violence, previous history of being disciplined for similar reasons and for causing infighting. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”   
The man in the middle - scar-face - spat on the table separating them and leaned back in his chair.    
Reyes sighed.   
“Due to your previous history of discipline, I have no other choice than to  _ reassign _ you.”   
“And what does that mean?” scar-face said, eyebrows raised. 

Gabriel shrugged, “orders from someone higher up than me. You get on a jet tomorrow morning, 6am sharp, and I never have to deal with you again. Ain’t my problem.”   
“And by higher up you mean the golden boy, Morrison, your little fling that you-”   
Jesse yelped in surprise as Gabriel leaned over, a flash of light off his knuckles, and suddenly there was blood misting in the air and splattered on the table and scar-face was flopped back in his seat, nose dribbling blood, knocked out.   
“Brass knuckles?” Jesse said, a slight grin at his lips, “nice touch.” Reyes hummed in agreement, slipping off the knuckles and wiping them clean on scar-face’s jacket before pocketing them, ignoring the shocked and unsure glances from scar-face’s lackies, who were still silent but now visibly perturbed. 

“You heard me,” Gabriel said as he clapped Jesse on the shoulder, addressing the men on the other side of the table, “6am, sharp. Take your friend back to his room.”   
  


Jesse accompanied Reyes back to his office, and hesitated a heartbeat before asking, “what does reassignment mean for them?”   
“Different division, menial labour. An eye will be kept on them. You’ll never see them again. Now, before you go back to Hanzo, you okay to do your team trial with him tomorrow morning? Jack sent me a message earlier, about a mission he said I might want to send you on. He hasn’t told me anything more, just that the files will be with me tomorrow and I need to send someone out within the next two days.”   
“Huh. Nice he asked for me specifically. ‘M sure Hanzo will be chill with doing the trial tomorrow. I’ll go tell him.”   
They hugged, Jesse sighing into Gabriel’s chest, a murmured thank you on his breath. Reyes ruffled his hair in acknowledgement, kissing his forehead.    
“See you tomorrow morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter, sorry guys for being gone so long! The action will come back next chapter, I promise. I'll hopefully remember to keep updating somewhat regularly...


End file.
